


This Delicate Thing We've Made

by spacemonkey766



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Barry Allen & Iris West Friendship, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Barry Allen, Boys In Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Past Barry Allen/Iris West, Protective Joe West, Protective Leonard Snart, Romance, Sex, Top Leonard Snart, so much love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 139,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25928239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey766/pseuds/spacemonkey766
Summary: For every tragedy in Barry’s life, he’d had a rebirth of sorts. When his mother died, he became part of a new family. When he’d been almost killed by a bolt of lightning, he’d become a hero. And now after the death of his daughter from the future, he finds himself on a new path he hadn’t quite expected.He never expected to find love again, certainly not with Leonard Snart. But falling for each other turned out to be the easy part, something effortless between them. But was it sustainable, was it destined to burn out as quickly as it began, or were they in for something that would end up being the thing in this world that made each man both feel more at home than they’d ever been in their lives?
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 61
Kudos: 156





	1. Where You Want to Be

**Author's Note:**

> I am a WestAllen shipper at my core but the one thing that could make me abandon ship is ColdFlash. I love the dynamic between these two characters, their evolution, their crazy chemistry. This is a post-season 5 AU exploring the idea of these two men coming together, a what-if their stars aligned.  
> Title is inspired by a Darren Hayes (one of my favorite singers) album of the same name with all chapter titles inspired by one of his songs.  
> This was a year-long labor of love, the ultimate ColdFlash story I was dying to tell with fluff, sweetness, sexy smut, and angst all rolled into it. Thank you for reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey there stranger, do you remember you were a part of my life  
> Early December, think I remember, sentiment cuts like a knife  
> The seasons are changing, life’s rearranging  
> Full of good times, would have beens  
> It’s all your fault and where’ve you been  
> And how time goes"

Barry took a deep inhale of the coffee in the cup in front of him, his hands absorbing the warmth emanating from the mug nursed between his palms. It wasn’t often he just stopped and actually sat at Jitters by himself. It was nice to slow down, enjoy a quiet moment, just pause and let the world move on around him instead of the other way around. He’d been trying to take more of those moments, be in them rather than fly past them, taking them in rather than getting lost in them.  
  
He had made plans to meet up with Iris and rather than filling his time while he waited, he opted to sit, relax and just be. Despite still sharing the loft, recently they hadn’t had the chance to spend much time together. Iris had been working in full gear trying to get the Central City Citizen off the ground, her spark for journalism reigniting with ferocity when they had been working to defeat Cicada, setting her back on a course of her own personal goals. The year before she had taken some time off to help lead Team Flash at S.T.A.R. Labs but it wasn’t the life she envisioned for herself. It had been nice having her a part of the team so regularly, comforting having her in his ear while out in the field, but that was his path, not hers. She thrived in journalism and her paper was taking off with great reviews, enough so that Iris needed more than just herself and Camilla to keep it going and growing.  
  
So here he sat, waiting for her to arrive with the stack of resumes that he promised to help her go through as she looked to hire another writer or two for the Central City Citizen. It wasn’t really his expertise, but he was happy she still valued his opinion so much and Barry didn’t hesitate to help her in any way he could.  
  
As he took a long, soothing sip of the steaming freshly brewed beverage, he marveled about how far they’d come together. From childhood friends to having a schoolboy crush, to growing up together and unrequited, unspoken love, it had taken a lot for them to get to where they were. Within a year they had dated, became lovers, moved in with each other, and gotten engaged. They had a wedding and a half, the first interrupted by multiverse hopping Nazis, survived the first few months of wedded bliss with Barry in prison, and came through stronger as husband and wife then they could have hoped for. They had overcome and thrived through everything the multiverse threw at them.  
But then Nora came along. And just as quickly, they lost her.  
  
They had tried to get past it as a couple. They had given each other space when they needed it, held each other tightly when they needed that. They had tried therapy together and separately but they had each felt like they were drowning in the notion of the family they lost, of the family they wouldn’t ever have, each grieving differently, trying to keep themselves and each other afloat but also unwilling to pull the other down with them. So after a couple of months of trying, they surrendered to what neither wanted to admit. They lost Nora, and something broke between them.  
  
What broke though did reveal to them that they were solid as partners, but as lovers, they couldn’t survive the loss of their child. They were soulmates, that they were both sure. Best friends, closer than family, deeper than any connection either had with anyone else, but not lovers. Not any more. With their daughter no longer existing, knowing the young girl they fell in love with would never be, even if they had another daughter in the future, was too much to bear. They were struggling moving forward towards that life without her, so instead decided to move away from it altogether.  
  
They went through with a no-fault divorce. Iris decided to keep her name hyphenated as a tribute to their daughter and the life they had created together. Barry asked her to keep the engagement ring as a symbol of the love they shared, telling her that even if someone else came along, she was his truest love, the only person other than Nora Allen that he felt should wear that ring. Because the truth was he would always love her, even if that love changed, even if someone else came along, and he knew Iris felt the same. So now she wore the ring on her right pointer finger and she had given Barry her wedding band to wear with his together on a necklace chain so he could have his own symbol of their time together.  
Much like their transition into partners, very little between them had actually changed. They still lived in their loft, but now in separate bedrooms. They still snuggled on the couch, Iris’ legs draped over his lap or his arm wrapped around her shoulders, but it lacked that heat of passion and instead burned with the comfortable warmth of family, just like it had been their entire lives. He still loved her, just not in that way, and he did mourn the loss of that particular version of their relationship, of the what was and what could have been, but they were in a better place now than they had been when they lost Nora, separately and together. It made Barry smile to himself as he thought about it, taking another sip from his mug. It wasn’t what he imagined for them, but at least they were able to move on and move forward.  
  
It had been six months now since Nora had been erased, gone but not forgotten. Barry had been handling grief his whole life, but for the first time in his life, he felt prepared for it, felt like he could move forward with his life without letting the pain dictate his movements or hold him back. Last year when Barry had come back from the Speed Force, he had felt contentment like never before. It gave him a new outlook like he could finally shake off his trauma and past mistakes. Even processing this new pain, he felt like he now had the tools to not get lost in his grief, like he could evolve and adapt to this new way of life. The pain was still there, but so was the joy, the memories, and the love for Nora that he would always carry with him. And they were all moving forward. He and Iris had finally navigated their new dynamic, Cisco had taken over as team leader now that he’d left Vibe behind and finally had found that balance between his work and personal life, Caitlin and Killer Frost were in-sync and happy, Ralph had stepped up as being a formidable hero to Central City, and Joe and Cecile were the ultimate power law and order couple of Captain of the CCPD and Central City Meta Attorney. They’d all survived again and were thriving, despite what had been thrown their way. It reinforced the belief to Barry that nothing could derail them permanently, as individuals and as a family, that he was prepared for whatever new surprises the universe threw his way.  
  
The ring of the entrance door to the coffee shop interrupted his inner musings and he wasn’t sure why but he felt compelled to look up. He felt his breathing come to a standing halt though as he saw Leonard Snart, robber of ATM’s, master criminal, and Legend who sacrificed himself to save time itself, walking through the door. Confusion and false hope flooded his mind for a moment, processing it at almost super-speed as he examined the man who couldn’t possibly be entering the coffee shop. It definitely wasn’t Leo of Earth X. Despite the similarities, there was a distinct way about each of them that differentiated the two Snarts, a unique swagger that was completely identifiable. No, that was the casual yet confident walk of the Leonard Snart of his earth, his Leonard Snart.  
  
Barry closed his eyes, took a deep inhale, and braced himself to open his eyes and confirm that he’d imagined it. Snart’s death had stung. They’d never been friends, but never truly enemies. Snart was a man with a background that could have easily been his own if Joe hadn’t taken him in. Barry had always seen Snart’s potential to do good, knowing he did what he did because of the thrill of the challenge, a fight within him that told him to kill or be killed, a desire to be better than his father; he became a man living in the shadows of the gray area of good and bad, never willing to be someone else's puppet. Barry blamed himself for pushing Snart to be a hero and although he was proud, Barry felt guilty for not saying something to the man when he helped him break into A.R.G.U.S to steal the Dominators power source, having learned from Flashpoint that he couldn’t change the course of someone's life in that way without dire consequences for everyone.  
  
So when Barry took a deep inhale and opened his eyes with the expectation to be disappointed by his mind playing tricks, his breath caught in his throat when the visage of Leonard Snart didn’t disappear. Walking in, dressed simply in jeans, a dark navy wool coat and cabby hat distracting from the face many people in Central City knew, his cool blue eyes caught sight of Barry and smirked.  
  
Without a thought, Barry whooshed over to the man and flashed them to the alley behind Jitters. Snart blinked hard at the unexpected jolt of super speed before realizing what had just happened.  
  
“You’re alive!” Barry exclaimed, smiling widely as his hands gripped Snart’s shoulders.  
  
“Jesus, kid, give a guy some warning,” Snart shook his head, trying to gain his equilibrium back.  
  
“You’re alive, how are you alive?” Barry didn’t even try to play it cool and hide the incredulous excitement in his voice, not truly recognizing how much he actually missed the rogue until having him standing whole and alive in front of him now.  
  
“The Legends found me and pulled me out of the time stream thanks to some warlock in a trench coat with a smoking problem,” Len shrugged, the nonchalant tone a stark contrast to the fantastical nature of that entire sentence.  
  
More surprising then the sudden burst of super speed had been was Barry enveloping him in a hug, arms clenched tightly around him. Len hesitated at first but the hitch he heard in Barry’s voice as he whispered ‘you’re alive’ again encouraged him to return the embrace, lifting his arms to hug Barry back, which was probably more surprising than anything else.  
  
It would be a few moments before Barry pulled away, not attempting to be discreet as he brought his hand to his cheek to wipe away the stray tear with his knuckles.  
  
“Sorry,” Barry apologized, smiling up at Snart, a brilliant blush spreading across his cheeks. Len knew his cold heart had begun to thaw when he had started working with the Legends, but he could feel a crack in the ice with the sight of that smile against that blush.  
  
“Geeze, Barry, I don’t know what’s more scarlet, your face or that ‘flashy’ costume of yours,” Len teased, winking, the small laugh that followed from Barry made the crack in the iced-over heart start to spread, Len almost positive that laugh was his new favorite sound.  
  
Being on the time ship for a year after he left Central City with Rip Hunter and his merry band of misfits only to die and be lost in time for another two, Len had to admit he had missed the kid and the dynamic between the two of them. He was no longer interested in living the solitary life, didn’t mind having companionship and people he could not only depend on but that depended on him. Sure the do-gooders on the ship were fine, and he genuinely enjoyed Sara’s company, but the Legends on the ship now were not the same crew he had left. They’d evolved, moved on, it was time for him to do the same.  
  
At first, he thought this new perspective was a result of dying, but if he was being honest with himself the perspective shift started well before. It was why he even considered the mission to begin with, why he had to save the team from Mick when he lost his way, why he considered pursuing something with Sara. But she was like him, cut from a similar cloth, and all though they would have had fun, they each needed someone who balanced their intensity. And there was only one person he’d met in his life who did that.  
  
Barry challenged him like no other, the proverbial yin to his yang. He’d been itching to see the speedster again, recognized that urge inside of him akin to when there would be an announcement of a precious diamond joining a public display or the meticulous planning of an impossible infiltration of a private auction. It surprised the hell out of him, almost as much as Barry’s reaction to seeing him again did.  
  
But the satisfaction he felt from Barry’s reaction was short-lived as Barry’s smile dropped, a hesitant twitch in his expression that revealed to an observant man that he wanted to say something that was difficult and uncomfortable. As the kid opened his mouth, a loud ping from Barry’s pocket interrupted him and had him pulling out the device, sighing in a mix of frustration and relief.  
  
“I gotta go. Flash business.”  
  
“Well, don’t let me be the reason the city is kept waiting for their beloved Scarlet Speedster,” Len folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. Barry seemed to hesitate, staring down at his phone before looking back up to Snart.  
  
“Are you going to be here a while?” Barry knew he had to go, but he couldn’t without knowing whether or not he’d see Snart again before the man disappeared.  
  
“Not here in this alley, no,” Len smirked as Barry rolled his eyes. “But my procurement of coffee was interrupted so I will be heading back into Jitters.”  
  
Len’s satisfied smirk turned into a surprised smile as Barry seemed to blush again. Who knew it was this easy to fluster the hero.  
  
“That’s not-“  
  
“Yes Barry, I’ll be in Central a while,” Len reached to pat Barry on the arm with one hand, giving the kid a break, Barry smiling in response. He then held up his other hand, holding Barry’s wallet between his fingers. “Should I hold onto this just to make sure I’ll see you again?”  
  
“You’re unbelievable,” Barry chuckled again, confirming to Len that yes, definitely his new favorite sound, as he speed-grabbed the wallet from Len’s hands. Len found himself grateful, not for the first time dealing with Barry Allen, that he’d perfected his poker face long ago.  
  
“You’re not the only one with quick hands,” Len winked. “Now go, hero. Be seeing you.”  
  
He watched as Barry turned on his heel to leave before coming back to quickly embrace Len one more time before flashing off, leaving Len there alone and in one of the rare times in his life, at a loss for words. Another gust of wind blew past him again and suddenly in Len’s hands was a plastic coffee cup. Looking down at the sticker along the side of the cup, the order read ‘Iced Flash’  
  
“Cute,” Len smiled.  
  
He wasn’t sure what kind of reception he had been expecting from Barry Allen at his posthumous return; wasn’t sure what he had been hoping for or why he had even hoped the hero would care. He’d imagined a few scenarios, ever being the master planner, but once again he found himself unable to account for the strange speedster.  
  
What he did know was things were about to get interesting.

________________________________________________

Snart took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check as his brain attempted to sort through his thoughts, the coldness of the beer bottle held between his hands acting almost as a grounding mechanism. He thought he would find comfort being at his usual booth at the bar he used to frequent but much like most things since being knitted back into reality, he didn’t feel like Saints and Sinners was something that belonged to him anymore. Even Central City itself felt different, foreign and unfamiliar.  
  
When he first got back he had broken into his old apartment and within minutes of walking around the space, he recognized that it didn’t feel like his anymore; he didn't even steal anything from the new tenants to prove a point. Within the first few weeks of being back he’d stood outside a jewelry store, outside Central Federal Bank, and the Central City History Museum in the dead of night, primed and ready to break in but feeling no desire or urge to do so. Instead, he just walked away from each of them without a second thought. The blocks in the area of the city he used to frequent felt smaller, his old safe houses that only Mick and Lisa had been aware of had been emptied of contents and other than the memories, felt hollow. Even more hollow was the way it didn’t disappoint or upset Len that he felt nothing as he retraced the steps and stops from his past life. It’s how he ended up at Saints and Sinners, the last stop on his proverbial greatest hits tour.  
  
As he took a long, soothing sip of the ice-cold beer, he marveled at the fact that his lack of attachment to the few areas of the city he had claimed for himself in the past was more frustrating than anything else. He’d always been able to keep a level of detachment as self-preservation but to feel nothing about the life he’d left behind was unfamiliar territory and Len was not a fan of feeling unprepared. The only iota of solace was that even as frustrating as it was, at least he didn’t feel like it’d been lost. Instead, it felt like closure, although he refused to call it a ‘closing a chapter’ because even though he enjoyed puns, he was not nearly as corny or sentimental as that. It did give him a sense of freedom though, permission to himself to leave his past behind, to move forward, like his history no longer defined him. It terrified him in the best and worst ways and Len was feeling the anxiety of the mixed emotions.  
  
He’d been dead for a few years. Life, the world, the people he knew, all moved on without him. Mick had created a new life with the new Legends, even starting a writing career in his free time. Lisa had moved to Gotham and was running with a crowd that called themselves the Sirens, partying and creating havoc, living a life that was her own and not the shadowed path their father had left them both. He was pleased they’d found their own places, continued creating their own lives after he left them. But they were lives he didn’t belong in, stories that weren’t his. As much as he missed his sister, he was not interested in living in the disaster that was Gotham City. And as much as he enjoyed his time with the Legends, that ship and the crew was not the same group he’d left behind and he was sure his place wasn’t with them, at least not on a regular basis anymore. The pit-stop at Jitters, seeing Barry Allen again for the first time in years, was probably the only emotion-evoking point of interest; what emotions though, Len wasn’t quite sure if he felt clear enough to give a name to them.  
  
He wasn’t sure where any of these revelations and details left him. He felt little attachment to who he had been. Raised by an abusive dad, young Len had found solace with his grandfather, an ice delivery man. Riding around in the truck with his grandfather, he’d developed an affinity for the cold, one that would transfer quite conveniently to his alter-ego persona as the cold-themed villain. But even though he still felt a fondness for the Captain Cold persona, he didn’t identify as the “villain” anymore. He was more than that, his time with the Legends proved that. But his time with them had come to an end, leaving him needing to find the balance between the dichotomy he felt and reconcile that with his resurrection. So he found himself asking who was he now, where would that take him, and more importantly, what did he want in this life that he didn’t have in the last.  
  
Snart thought about getting up from his booth and leaving Saints and Sinners behind, possibly for good, but a familiar sensation washed over him. Len prided himself on being able to notice shifts in a room, changes in the energy around him, but to actually be able to identify the cause to a specific person or action, Snart could only count on one hand the number of those he could pinpoint with absolute certainty. He knew when Lisa entered, the distinct rhythm of her signature walk, usually accompanied by the sound of the clacking of heels a dead giveaway. He knew when Mick entered a room, a smell of singed fabric or smoky air preceding his gruff noises. And the third was not so much a sound or a smell but a feeling, a static in the air as if everything became charged, followed by soft hesitant steps. That was what he felt now.  
  
“Hello, Barry,” Len greeted, not looking up as Barry came around to the other side of the booth to sit across from him.  
  
“I had a sneaking suspicion I’d find you here,” Barry smirked at him, leaning his arms over the top of the table to clasp his hands in front of him.  
  
“Are you implying I’ve become predictable,” Len tilted his head, a glare with no heat directed at his booth-mate.  
  
“You have your moments,” Barry teased. “If it’s any consolation, this wasn’t the first place I looked.”  
  
“You’ve been looking for me,” Len teased; it wasn’t a question.  
  
“Well, when I finished up you weren’t at Jitters and we didn’t really get a chance to talk or for me to ask how you were, or how you’re even here and,” Barry paused in his rambling, only suddenly realizing he was, his cheeks flushing as he pulled his arms off the table to rest beside him. Len couldn’t see it with the table blocking the view, but he was confident Barry was sitting on his hands, just one nervous tick replacing the other. “Sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize for nothing,” Len mock scolded and pushed the beer towards Barry suddenly, forcing the younger man to use his speed to keep it from spilling over onto his lap. “Have a drink. Relax.”  
  
“Alcohol does nothing to me. A side effect of my powers,” Barry picked at the corner of the bottle label that Len had been playing with prior to Barry’s arrival before taking a swig of the offered beer. Len made no effort to hide his fixated stare as Barry’s lips wrapped around the bottle, his neck stretching as he tilted his head back, his tongue darted out to lick his lips of the bubbles as he pulled it away.  
  
“See, I knew there weren’t many perks to being a hero,” Len wagged a finger at him as Barry rolled his eyes before passing the beer back. Barry didn’t take the bait to wax poetic about the good in Len. It reminded him of that Christmas after Mardon had broken him out. Barry had made his pitch and instead of telling Len there was good in him to try to convince him to help, he called him out on being a lousy villain. It was the first real indication Len had of Barry’s snark, his attitude and unrelenting insistence that he could see through Len’s facade.  
  
They sat there in silence for a few moments, neither wavered by the stare between them. Len was amused by Barry’s presence, if not a bit curious about his hesitant behavior since realizing Len was back, the younger man’s face a mixture of excitement, wonder, and a hint of sadness. It made Len feel at ease that he wasn’t the only one experiencing a mix of emotions.  
  
“How long have you been back?” Barry finally broke the silence, his voice almost desperate, strained.  
  
“In the land of the living or Central City?” Len responded, taking a swig of the beer, certain he was imagining the sweet difference of taste at the lip of the glass after sharing it with Barry  
  
“Both?” Barry shrugged.  
  
“Three months on the Waverider after they pulled me out of the time stream, almost a month in Central.”  
  
“You’ve been in Central City a month and I’m just seeing you now?” It wasn’t hurt in Barry’s voice, more like self-deprecation, like he somehow should have known that Snart had returned.  
  
“Feeling left out, Scarlet Sp-“  
  
“Could you not finish that name out loud, please?” Barry quickly interrupted, his voice an aggravated whisper. “I mean, Jesus, Snart this isn’t exactly a place I’d like to advertise my alter ego.”  
  
“Fine, but quit calling me Snart. Believe it or not, it’s not a name I’m fond of hearing roll past your lips like a swear word,” Len said, pointing a finger again at Barry as the other man opened his mouth, “and don’t even think of calling me Leonard, Bartholomew.”  
  
“Lenny?”  
  
“If you fancy being shot. Reserved for Lisa only.”  
  
“Leo?”  
  
“I’m above the age of nine, so no,” Len sighed, “Len will be fine, kid.”  
  
“Okay, fine, but can you stop calling me ‘kid’? I’m thirty years old,” Barry sighed as he reached across the table to steal a couple of cold fries from Len’s abandoned burger plate.  
  
“No can do. I did my first stint in juvie before you learned how to run even at a normal speed,” Len smirked, pushing the plate towards the middle of the table to give Barry easier access.  
  
“Actually, I wasn’t even born yet when you first went to juvie,” Barry grinned cheekily at him as he plucked two more fries from the plate. “Your record said it was right after you turned thirteen and I wasn’t born until three months later.”  
  
“Brat,” Len raised an amused eyebrow, Barry just chuckling as he chomped on the pilfered fries.  
  
“Old man,” Barry winked. So he’d done his research on Snart. Not surprising considering his profession. What was surprising was Barry seemingly being unfazed by the over decade age difference between them.  
  
“You’re really not helping your case to get me to stop calling you kid.”  
  
“Whatever, Len,” Barry asked, putting a little extra emphasis on the name as he wiped the salt from his hands before clasping them atop the table. “So, what have you been doing since you got back to the city?”  
  
“I had to find my feet again,” Len replied, deciding to opt for the truth rather than be coy, despite his instinct to poke a little fun at the speedster. It was obvious he was either disturbed or relieved at his return, if not both. “Most of my safe houses were gone, my apartment. I had to track down Lisa and let her know I was alive, that was a lot of fun to explain. Haven’t exactly had an opportunity to plan a grand heist to get the Flash’s attention.”  
  
“Please, don’t feel like you have to on my account,” Barry smiled, moving a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “So three months on the Waverider?”  
  
“Yeah, when they pulled me out of the time stream I was a little scattered, talking in riddles, couldn’t have a clear thought, wasn’t sure where I was,” Len broke the gaze finally, eyes fixating on the bottle between his hands again as if he needed to focus on the tactile sensation to ground him. “I couldn’t carry a conversation or sit still for more than a few moments. Everything was either echoes of the past or rhymes about-“  
  
“The stars?” Barry interrupted. Len’s head snapped up to look at him.  
  
“How-“  
  
“The same thing happened to me....when I came out of the Speed Force,” Barry smiled sadly, recognizing Len’s questioning look before continuing his explanation. “I spent six months in the Speed Force to save the city until the team was able to pull me out. The time stream and Speed Force must be connected. I was drawing all over the walls, talking nonsense about the stars.”  
  
“How long were you like that?”  
  
“A day or so?” Barry shrugged.  
  
“That’s it?” Len couldn’t keep the jealous incredulousness from creeping into his voice. He had been stuck like that for two months before he could make sense of anything.  
  
“Yeah,” Barry shrugged again. “Joe told me Iris was in trouble and it just snapped me out of it.”  
  
“Ah, true love,” Len couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. And then suddenly Len was able to start to put words to those emotions evoked from seeing him at Jitters earlier. The first was a twinge of the feeling of longing that took form as minor envy.  
  
“Something like that.” It was that sad smile again on the man’s face. Len decided then and there that it was the expression he saw Barry wear the most and he much preferred when the kid’s eyes lit up with excitement or even flared with rage. Or that damn chuckle that he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since this morning.  
  
“What happened? Last I saw you you two were engaged.”  
  
“It’s a long, long story,” Barry sighed. “And despite your claim, the pickled eggs here are gross and I’d much rather not spill my guts over them.”  
  
“Well, last time we were here you bought me dinner,” Len stated, meeting Barry’s eyes before taking another sip of the beer.  
  
“I think what you meant to say is you stuck me with your check,” Barry glared, narrowing his eyes as his lips curled in a hint of a smile.  
  
“What I meant to say was I owe you dinner,” Len said, gaze unwavering. There was that second feeling he could now identify, he had been energized for the first time since being back when he saw Barry at Jitters, and it was now taking shape as boldness. “Somewhere you’d maybe be a little more comfortable ‘spilling your guts’ as you so eloquently put it?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Barry scoffed, looking incredulously at Snart until he noticed no hint of the snide smirk on the man’s face, just an unwavering stare of steel-blue eyes. “Wait, for real?”  
  
“Come on, we had some fun the last time we got together,” Len looked away coyly before taking a swig from the bottle, pretending not to notice how Barry’s eyes tracked down to his lips before swallowing nervously.  
  
“Fun?” Barry shook his head, “I don’t know about ‘fun’. Memorable, definitely.”  
  
“Teaming up with me is a one of a kind experience, kid,” Len smirked. “I know you’ve missed me.”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Barry cocked his head, his eyes smiling.  
  
“Fine, how bout I flatter you instead,” Len was quick to respond. That third feeling, confidence. The longing, the energization, it was the affirmation he did know of at least one thing he wanted for sure since his return, and it gave him the confidence now to go all in. “I’ve missed you, thought about you. When I was off with the Legends just thinking about the smug ‘I told you so face’ you’d have if you found out about some of the undoubtedly pseudo heroic things I took part in. And sometimes I wished you were there with us, the fun and trouble we could have gotten into because we do work well together when we’re on the same page. And sometimes I thought about you just because I wanted to.”  
  
Barry could feel his heart quickening, taken aback by Len’s brazen confession, unsure how to handle the information he was receiving as Len delivered it with soft eyes and no trace of teasing.  
  
“Snar-Len,” Barry corrected himself quickly, clearly flustered, swallowing nervously as he sought clarification. “I have this kind of track record of misreading a situation to the point where I embarrass myself...what are you saying exactly?”  
  
“I’m saying I’ve thought a lot about you and me. I’m not a changed man, Barry. I’m still the same guy you knew before, just with a new perspective, a perspective that includes how I see you.”  
  
“I’m not interested in a new Leonard Snart,” Barry interrupted then, shaking his head, all nerves gone as he became the one to clarify. “I was never interested in the man I thought you could be like you were some project. I always knew who you were really are, the man I saw, the man in those moments between pretense. The man you now know you are.”  
  
“Then it’s settled,” Len said, reaching into his jacket pocket for a few bills to leave on the table and then reached again to pull out his phone. After a few taps of this thumbs, Barry’s phone chimed with an alert.  
  
Confusion was the first emotion that flickered across the younger man’s face as he pulled his phone from his pants pocket, looking at the screen. A text from an unknown number with nothing but a snowflake emoji in its message.  
  
“How could you possibly have my number?” Barry looked up from the phone, that smile without a hint of sadness the desired effect.  
  
“Please, Barry, don’t insult me,” Len winked at him before excusing himself from the table. “Be seeing you.”  
  
And with that Snart left the bar, unsure if he’d ever return. The place held nothing for him now other than the man he left behind and a new memory. Maybe there was something to that cliche sentimentality of closing a chapter. It felt like he was finally ready to start a brand new one. What he did know for sure was something he suspected long ago, that his interest in the Scarlet Speedster was more about the man behind the mask. And the more he saw, the more he wanted to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Where You Want to Be" by Darren Hayes


	2. Taken By the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I want you and that’s so terrifying  
>  And I want you to help put out the fires  
>  Cause I am an island and you are the ocean  
>  And all of my sadness taken by the sea"

For Barry, it started with staring at his phone, his eyes fixated on the single text message with a simple snowflake emoji from “Len”, his fingers hovering over the reply button.  
  
Len. When did Leonard Snart, legendary thief, Captain Cold, become ‘Len’ to him? The man had tried to kill him on more than one occasion, kidnapped his friends to use against him, betrayed his trust, and lied to him when he went out on a limb and trusted him. But that same night he also killed a man who was going to kill Barry, had later warned him about a threat against his life instead of helping those who broke him out of jail, let Barry help him and his sister against their even worse criminal father, and then went off on a mission to save the future, sacrificing himself to save their friends. He even risked his freedom by helping Barry break into A.R.G.U.S to save Iris with absolutely nothing in it for him. Barry kept wondering did the good outweigh the bad, the heroic deeds justify the sinful ones, and at what point does one stop paying for his past and the slate becomes clean. But if he was being honest with himself, it didn’t even really matter to him. In his mind, Len was absolved.  
  
In the beginning, before Snart had learned of Barry’s identity, he hadn’t given the criminal much thought, thinking of him as nothing more than another bad guy. But when Len learned who was behind the mask, when they brokered their deal of not revealing his identity, to leave his friends alone in exchange for not carting him off to jail, when Len so readily agreed that he could pull off his heists without letting innocent people get hurt, their dynamic shifted. From enemies to rivals, from being on opposing sides to competing at their highest level. Barry didn’t banter with the other villains he’d come up against, never considered teaming up with them or going to them for help either. And he definitely didn’t laugh at their puns when their weapon was pointed at him. So at some point, Captain Cold and the Flash became nothing more than a game that Leonard Snart and Barry Allen played.  
  
And then Leonard died. And Barry mourned.  
  
But now he was back, alive and whole after three years, and Barry found himself thinking about him more and more. Len always got up right into his personal space, standing just a little closer than socially appropriate, always eyeing him up like he was either undressing him or analyzing him, that slow and deliberate drawl sometimes making Barry’s spine tingle with anticipation. He had definitely found the man attractive but when he’d blast him with the cold gun it was as effective as a cold shower. And then punches were pulled, shots were wide, and the game changed. Barry was no longer worried about being betrayed by Leonard, not after hearing about his escapades from Ray during his time with the Legends, not after their team-up taking on A.R.G.U.S.  
  
The A.R.G.U.S mission had changed everything. The whole time Len kept challenging what Barry was doing, calling him out on the out of character behavior because he believed in Barry’s goodness, had even told him it was his strength. It was strange to be on the other side of that conversation, to have Len appealing to his good nature when he considered going through King Shark to get to the tech. Leaving him behind in Siberia, telling him to take care of himself yet knowing what future lay ahead, the guilt would have consumed if he hadn’t been so focused on trying to save Iris’ life. If things had been different, if Snart hadn’t died when he did, it wasn’t hard for Barry to see a future where they became friends.  
Leonard Snart had embraced himself as the man Barry always believed he was and Barry felt pride. But now that Barry wasn’t emblazoned in love for someone else, he felt like a part of his brain had finally caught up to some of those feelings he’d either ignored or barely noticed before. They weren’t new, they were just awoken. And since their conversation in the booth, Len’s proposition to take him out for dinner, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering throughout the day to the man’s piercing steel-blue eyes, long fingers, broad shoulders, and more importantly, that sharp wit. It wasn’t the first time an interaction at that dive bar had left Barry reeling as if the world had turned upside down. He first realized he was physically attracted to him when Len stepped up into his personal space in front of the pool table at Saints and Sinners, inches from him, eyes piercingly appraising him as they traveled up and down the length of his body. He could feel the heat of the stare and the lightning spark in his own body in response, the shock of desire. And then Len had slid a napkin with the request for permanent immunity from prosecution and when Barry denied that and offered him something else, he’d felt a twinge of hatred at himself when the thought crossed his mind of personal interaction in exchange for Snart’s help. Barry was human, after all, a red-blooded male who could be persuaded by lust just as much as any other person.  
  
That felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed, so much had happened, to them and within them. What didn’t change though was that instant spark between them, call it lust, call it chemistry, whatever. The point was it was there. But what was Barry to do with that realization, that attraction re-awoken by having the man standing in front of him not more than three days ago? What would his friends say, his family? He could just hear Oliver’s voice in his ear “you don’t date your villains, Barry.”  
  
There was also the fact that he’d only been a few months through the end of his marriage. What if this was just a rebound, his mind playing tricks on his heart, so desperate for something different that he was ready to jump into dating Leonard Snart.  
  
And with that notion, not to mention even entertaining the word ‘date’, Barry clicked out of the message screen and pocketed his phone. He couldn’t deal with this right now, was severely overthinking all of it. Len just wanted to go for dinner, catch up; Barry needed to slow down.  
  
When his immediate thought was that Len would have enjoyed that pun, Barry knew he was in serious trouble.  


___________________________

For Len, it started before running into Barry at Jitters. He’d been back in Central City for a little while now and had resisted the urge to stop by S.T.A.R. Labs multiple times to surprise the speedster. He felt a pull to see the man as if now that he was back in the city it was time to start playing their game again.  
  
But Len found himself lacking the interest in robbing a bank or breaking into a museum. He’d traveled through time, fought actual bad guys, became part of a real team, and saved time itself. His old ways just didn’t seem to fit the man he was anymore. And if he was being honest with himself, it hadn’t for a while, even before he and Mick followed Rip. He’d been at the top of his game for a long time. It got boring and he got complacent.  
  
Barry, the Flash, had been the catalyst that changed things then. Maybe he would be the catalyst again. Len saw a lot of himself in Barry, the dark side hovering below the surface, the eagerness to be the best, the addiction to the thrill of an adventure. Just because they defined it in different ways didn’t mean they weren't similar. But he also found the kid annoying and frustrating and a thorn in his side.  
  
Discovering it was a thorn he wanted to keep is what threw him. Barry challenged him to be better, and Len found that although at first, he thought it was to be a better rival, he learned it ended up inspiring him to be a better person. He respected Barry, humbled by his belief in the goodness inside of him, scared by the trust Barry continuously placed in Len despite past discretions that should sway him to believe otherwise, and the lengths he’d gone to in order to help Len, not only from his father but himself as well. After working with the Legends, with a team he came to care about when before the only two people he cared about in the world were Lisa and Mick, he found himself with a mission more important to him than just stealing, than just making a name for himself. He found a purpose.  
  
And for that, he blamed Barry.  
  
In the beginning, Mick had accused him of being obsessed with the speedster. Although he wasn’t fond of the connotation that came with that word, the man hadn’t been far off. It was the transition of feelings that was what he had kept from his friend. Curiosity turned to fascination, fascination to intrigue, intrigue to attraction, attraction to lust. He’d felt the first surge of attraction when the man had the nerve to step up to him in the forest, fearless, confident, that lithe body in head to toe red leather. Len’s request for a ride back to town may have had held an unspoken invitation and the coy smile he got in return did nothing to deter the attraction. But the dismissing it as nothing more than harmless flirtation came to a screeching halt when he thought Lewis had killed Barry, one shot to the chest of an unmasked hero who was just trying to help Len save his sister. Seeing him alive in the costume brought an instant surge of relief, and not just because help for his sister was still a possibility. He cared about the kid, genuinely, and it surprised the hell out of him. And it had grown exponentially from that moment.  
  
He knew he wanted more than just a one night stand with the man. He liked to think that before he died, that another night or two of flirting over a break-in because those were definitely flirtatious half-smiles beneath the red mask and appraising eyes over the barrel of the cold gun, would lead to that. But he wanted more than that, wanted more of Barry. So after weeks of avoiding him, of watching him from afar, Len decided to do something about it and took a chance at Jitters. He had no idea how Barry would react to seeing him alive but the reception was not anything he could have expected. To know that Barry was happy that he was alive, sincerely happy to have him back, it gave Len hope. He’d always thought hope was a dirty thing, something you couldn’t trust or hold on to, something that betrayed you. To have hope was dangerous.  
  
But Len liked danger. And he liked a challenge. His whole life he’d looked for things to satisfy, to fill a void; money, art, beautiful and rare priceless things. And for every thief, there was an idea that one day you’d find that beautiful rare and priceless score, the perfect and final score that you’d worked for you’re entire career, the something that made the rest seem worthless. The score to end all scores.  
  
Seeing the young man again at Jitters, Barry tracking him down to the bar, just confirmed to Len that there was more than just sexual tension between them. For the first time in a long time, Len knew exactly what he wanted. Stealing the heart of Barry Allen just might be the thing worth the danger, worth the risk, the only thing an old thief like him would be willing to give up everything for.  
  
Barry Allen was the perfect score.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Taken By the Sea" by Darren Hayes


	3. Who Would Have Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nobody told you that a heart is like a deep, deep freeze  
>  So many lies so much of it broken  
>  Nobody told you deep within a well so cavernous  
>  That maybe I could shed some light on  
>  Who would have thought it could be amazing  
>  Who would have thought the tiny courageous  
>  Who would have thought that love so belated  
>  Could save me and bring me back to you"

He could run so fast that the world appeared as if it was standing still. He could travel through time. He could run on water, scale buildings, phase through walls, and that was only scratching the surface of the speedster skills he possessed. But with all his power, his abilities and fantastic feats, there were still things beyond his capabilities.  
  
Like the line at the bank.  
  
If Barry Allen needed to access his finances, he was just an average guy waiting his turn in line. It had been boring and tedious enough when he could process time at a normal speed, but now as a speedster, it was just excruciating.  
  
Still, Barry couldn’t help but see the bright side as he gazed at the check-in his hand, the words ‘S.T.A.R. Labs’ typed in bold black letters. It wasn’t the rather large six-figure sum that had him smiling, all though it was nice not having to worry on how to keep S.T.A.R. Labs afloat thanks to the residuals and patents it garnished from years of research and inventions prior to its explosion with the particle accelerator, when it was a staff of hundreds instead of being able to count on one hand. It was the name, it was the pride he held of knowing this was his responsibility. Not so long ago, although feeling like a lifetime away, he had looked to the structure in wonder and awe, dreaming of maybe one day working there after he freed his father. Never did he dream he’d own it. But if his life had taught him anything it was that the unimaginable was an average day and the only constant in his life was change. Life moves, things evolve, and the unexpected had a habit of making things way more interesting.  
  
Except when the unexpected included six people ahead of you in line that was a worse kind of torture than one of Singh’s lectures or the Weather Wizard’s hail storms.  
  
“I hate when they don’t have enough tellers for the Saturday crowd,” a low voice said from behind him.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Barry laughed politely, nodding over his shoulder slightly to acknowledge the person.  
  
“Almost wish there was a way to speed it up, huh Scarlet?” the voice said again, the low and cool timber of the voice suddenly striking a chord of familiarity. Barry turned to face the man behind him and sighed.  
  
“Underwhelmed are we, Barry?” Leonard Snart acknowledged, tilting his head to the side, half amused and half offended at Barry’s sigh. “Especially after such a warm reception the last time we met.”  
  
“No, it’s just I gotta get the S.T.A.R. Labs check deposited, I haven’t eaten in a few hours, and I’m just not in the mood to stop a bank robbery today,” Barry whined quietly, rubbing at his eyes.  
  
“Well, as offended as I am that you are ‘not in the mood’ for our fun and games, I can tell you’re not in top form because you failed to notice that I’m not exactly dressed for a heist,” Snart folded his arms over his chest, indicating with his head to Barry to move forward the six inches that the line had moved up. “And I did not know you were going to be here. You know everything’s not all about you, Mr. Allen.”  
  
Barry backed up, mindful not to bump into the woman in front of him, as he took in Snart’s appearance. Dressed casually in dark worn jeans, a light navy canvas jacket open over a dark gray Henley, with a pair of sunglasses and an age-worn gray Central City Diamonds baseball cap low-key obscuring his notable face to an informed citizen. Not exactly screaming Captain Cold, robber extraordinaire.  
  
“Are you serious? Are you actually making a withdrawal that doesn’t involve theft?” Barry teased in a quiet voice.  
  
“For your information, ‘Captain Cold’ has never struck Twin Cities Federal, in either Central or Keystone, because ‘Len Colden’ banks there.”  
  
“Colden?” Barry halfheartedly groaned. That was almost as bad as the ‘ice to see you’ greeting that Len had tried once during a heist that had the Flash laughing at the absurdity and forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to apprehending the criminal, not be amused by him.  
  
“For your information, it’s Old English for ‘dark valley’ and was an alias long before Ramon came up with my more notable one,” Len defended, taking a step closer towards Barry, forcing the younger man to take another step back to close the gap in the line in front of them. He was being honest, he hadn’t followed Barry here. He was amused, to say the least though to see the speedster waiting in line. Not a place either of them frequented, what were the odds they’d run into each other.  
  
“Dark valley? That’s a little ominous for someone who is now more of a legend with criminal tendencies rather than a criminal with heroic tendencies, don’t you think?” Barry laughed, arms folded across his chest.  
  
“Why don’t you speak a little louder. I don’t think the teller with the panic button under her counter heard you, Scarlet, ” Snart rolled his eyes.  
  
“What did I say about-“  
  
“Ah-ah I only called you Scarlet. I didn’t use the second half of the moniker, which I think you’ll agree is the half you don’t want me saying in a public setting,” Len smirked, pleased as he watched Barry try to fight the tug of the smile at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Whatever, Len,” Barry emphasized the nickname but any additional teasing died on his lips as he saw five men dressed all in black near the entrance reach beneath their trench coats and begin firing their automatic weapons wildly. He hadn’t seen them enter, distracted by the banter with Leonard Snart to notice them. Barry immediately set into action, quickly grabbing people two at a time in all directions and escorting them outside to safety as, in slow motion, the five men littered the bank with bullets.  
  
For a Saturday afternoon, the bank was full of people and Barry took notice of the tellers dropping behind their bulletproof glass partitions as he grabbed and safely carried almost 20 people out of harm's way to the street on the other side of the stone walls of the bank. He’d noticed the men too late, they’d already begun firing by the time his speedster reflexes kicked in. He could talk out the assailants, but that still left the hundreds of bullets between the five of them that had already been fired. The number of bullets outnumbered the people currently present, so emptying the bank rather than catching all the bullets seemed like his best course of action. Adrenaline allowed him to mostly ignore the few twinges he felt as bullets grazed him just as he nearly dodged out of the way in time but something began to slow him down, whether it was the lack of energy from not eating enough today to feed his super metabolism or the few bullets that managed to make contact with his unprotected flesh, not having come prepared with his suit and only dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. But as he felt his strength and stamina begin to slow, although he’d cleared out most of the bank he knew he wouldn’t be able to make another trip back and forth to help more. He saw Snart in slow motion trying to dive to the floor to safety and with his last surge of strength, Barry grabbed him and zipped as far away as he could carry them before his speed and strength faltered.  
  
Within seconds they were sliding across the floor of one of the halls in the back of the bank. The squeak as they slid across the marble seemed to echo in the empty corridor. Barry had about a nanosecond to anticipate the impact before his back collided with the concrete wall, curling around the man in his arms to protect him. The air whooshed from his lungs as his back absorbed the hit, pain radiating to every nerve in his body before he blacked out.  
  
With a sudden jolt, Len took a moment to mentally assess his condition and what just happened, just a second ago standing in the middle of the bank before blinking and skidding to a painful stop on the floor. He recalled the sensation of traveling at super speed from the time Barry zipped them to the forest years ago and at Jitters just the week before, but that didn’t mean his body was used to the sensation. Pushing himself up from where he was sprawled across the cold marble, the slight nausea was easily subsided as he took in the discomfort in his limbs from sliding across the floor at high speed. Luckily his fall was prevented by...  
  
“Barry!” Len quickly turned on his knees behind him to see the man slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Bright red blood stained the floor around him and for a moment Len was frozen at the sight of the other man so still.  
  
“Shit, Barry,” he cursed, maneuvering the younger man to lay on his back, a shaking hand reaching out to his neck, feeling the rapid heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingers. His relief was short-lived however as he moved his hand to Barry’s chest and realized he wasn’t breathing.  
  
“Come on, kid,” Len plead desperately as he lay strong yet gentle hands on either side of Barry’s face, cupping his cheeks, shaking the head gently as he tried to rouse the other man. Barry’s heart was beating but he still wasn’t breathing.  
  
Thinking for a moment on what he should do, Len recalled a time in prison when another inmate had been thrown against a wall by a man way bigger than he was and literally had the wind knocked out of him, the force of the impact on his back disrupting his breathing pattern. The inmate had passed out and was unable to try to work through the diaphragm spasm, requiring a few rescue breaths to get him going again.  
  
Len sent a prayer up to whoever listened for wayward ex-cons and nerdy cops-turned-hero’s that this was a similar scenario. He planted one hand firmly on Barry’s chest, the other pinching his nose closed as he leaned over him, pressing his lips against Barry’s and breathed into his mouth. After a few forced breaths, Barry finally inhaled sharply, alternating between coughing and gasping in air. Len hovered over him, his hand shifting from Barry’s nose to cup his cheek, the other hand rubbing Barry’s chest as the injured man groaned, struggling to get his breathing under control.  
  
“Len,” Barry gasped, looking up at the worried gaze hovering over him, frozen there for a moment, staring at each other, lips barely touching, breathing heavy.  
  
“Goddamnit kid, you scared the crap out of me,” Len swore, pulling away with a sigh as he sunk back on his heels, his relief that Barry was breathing again getting lost in the scare of the realization that Barry was covered in blood. He moved his hands across his body, trying to track down where Barry was injured but he suddenly heard voices shouting and footsteps approaching and Len knew he had to get them into hiding.  
  
Looking around he saw the hall littered with office doors and praying just one was open. They had to flee and quick but Barry hadn’t yet made any indication of movement.  
  
“Barry, we can’t stay here,” Len bent over the younger man. He held tightly to Barry’s left wrist with his own left hand and slung his arm across his shoulders as his right arm wrapped tightly around Barry’s waist. He lifted the injured man to his feet, Barry biting in his lip to stifle his shout of pain. As gentle as he could with the urgency of the situation, Len made his way down the hall, letting go of Barry’s wrist only long enough to twist the door handles. Barry was slumped against him, feet dragging along as he was barely able to support his own weight as Len hurriedly half carried him down the hall. Len spared a look at Barry’s face, his head hung down, chin to chest, shallow and rapid breathing making Len nervous as Barry’s right arm loosely wrapped around his own torso. The second to last door on the left, a filing room, was thankfully unlocked. Len eased the door open just as Barry’s knees buckled suddenly, letting out a strained whimper of pain, Len grunting as he shifted to support all of Barry’s weight as they entered.  
  
Len quickly shut off all the lights and locked the door behind them. He eased them down to the floor, backs against the door and Barry cried out in pain at the sudden jarring of his body.  
  
“Shh, you need to be quiet,” Len whispered, as Barry bit his bottom lip trying to suppress a cry of pain. He shouldn’t have been moved, Len knew that, but they had little choice in the matter. As he heard the voices approach, Len gathered Barry into his arms, seating the young man between his legs and held him close, chest to chest. Barry gripped onto Len’s sleeve, fisting the material in his hand as he shook with a jolt of pain and buried his face into Len’s left shoulder as he tried to muffle the cry.  
  
The footsteps grew closer and Len grew worried at Barry’s pained and heavy breathing and moans.  
  
“I’m sorry, kid,” he whispered, reaching his left arm up from behind Barry’s back, across his shoulder to gently clamp a hand over Barry’s mouth. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Mmph,” Barry moaned, nodding his head in forgiveness and closing his eyes tightly, focusing all his energy on being quiet. Len tucked Barry’s head into the crook of his neck, feeling Barry’s lips as they moved soundlessly against the palm of his hand. He used the arm still wrapped around Barry’s back to pull the man as close to him as possible.  
  
Len heard them pass, could almost feel the tension as they tried to turn the locked handle, and then heard them move on. When he was sure they had cleared the hall, he released the hand over Barry’s mouth and moved it to Barry’s chin to tilt his head up to look at him.  
  
“You did good kid,” Len whispered, looking into the pain-filled green eyes staring up at him.  
  
“I-I could have got-gotten us caught,” Barry stammered through a wave of pain, his breathing rapid.  
  
“But you didn’t,” Len thumbed at a pain-induced tear that had fallen down Barry’s cheek. “I’m going to lay you down now. I need to take a look at your injuries.”  
  
“No,” Barry shook his head, pulling it away from where Len’s hand braced his cheek as he blinked in confusion, squirming against Len as he raised a hand to shove against Len’s chest weakly. “Gotta get back out there, I didn’t-I didn’t get everyone out.”  
  
Len snatched the hand in his own, pinning it between their bodies as he refused to let Barry escape from his grasp, trying to ignore the immediate and suffocating rush of fondness mixed with frustration swelling in his chest. Bleeding out and still trying to help everyone but himself, damn hero.  
  
“Damnit, Barry, you weren't’ breathing two minutes ago,” Len cursed, realizing the moment the words left his lips that it wasn’t an argument that mattered to the Flash. “You got out as many as you could, even after getting shot, and somehow still managed to bring me to safety.”  
  
“I don’t think these are just bank robbers,” Barry tried to shift out of the hold Len had on him before a tremor of pain shot through his body at the movement, “I have to do more.”  
  
“You can’t do anymore, kid, not in the state you're in,” Len gripped his chin again, gently, forcing the younger man to look at him. “Now let me help you so you can live to help people another day.”  
  
Barry hesitated but nodded, knowing it would be painful but also knowing it was necessary. He couldn’t help anybody like this.  
  
Len gently moved his arms till one was behind Barry’s shoulders and the other beneath his knees, easing Barry onto his back and on the floor. Barry groaned in pain at the movement but tried to be as pliable as Len needed him to be even though his body told him to push him away. Len shrugged off his jacket, balled it up, and gently helped Barry to lift his head, slipping the jacket beneath him. Barry lay his head back against the makeshift pillow and flashed a pained smile of thanks to Len, the older man marveling at just how many versions of a smile one person could have.  
Len scanned Barry’s body for the obvious signs of injury, noting the bloodstains on Barry’s right side of the abdomen just above the curve of his hip, near the center of his left thigh, and the right shoulder.  
  
“Shit, kid, aren’t you supposed to be faster than a speeding bullet?” Len scolded with no real heat in the criticism as he checked each wound, turning Barry slightly on his side to reveal the path of the bullet that nicked his right flank. He had nearly avoided it but it grazed almost an inch into his flesh of the abdomen.  
  
“Too-too many bullets spraying for me to phase through them and-and carry everyone,” Barry breathed through the pain as Len lifted his thigh to check for the path of the bullet wound. He lifted Barry’s leg slightly, noting that the gunshot wound entered from the outward side of his left thigh and exited through the inner thigh. The most troubling was the shoulder wound, however, entering from behind, a small pool of blood forming beneath him with no exit wound in the front.  
  
“Idiot,” Len muttered as he stood from where he had knelt over the injured speedster.  
  
“Hey, easy with the ‘idiot’ stuff. I had to save people,” Barry lifted his head to look at Len.  
  
“Yeah well maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to get yourself almost killed,” Len muttered as he moved around the dark office, finding a couple of half drunk water bottles, a roll of packaging tape, and a sweater draped over the back of a chair.  
  
“Snart, what is it?” Barry knew he wasn’t actually mad at him. Len didn't respond as he poured water over his hands to clean them and then poured water over Barry’s thigh.  
  
“Ah, fuck!” Barry swore, leaning his back against the jacket on the floor. He watched as Len said nothing, tearing the sweater into strips and packing two wads tightly against each side of the thigh wound, causing Barry to curse again in pain. “Can you give a guy some warning?”  
  
“You’re right, where are my manners,” Len drawled in that mocking tone, wrapping packing tape around Barry’s thigh to hold the makeshift bandaging in place. “Barry, would you mind if I clean your wounds so you don’t go into sepsis and then wrap them so you don’t bleed out?”  
  
“You don’t have to be an ass,” Barry grumbled, biting back another shout as Len moved to the abdomen wound. He cleaned it out, pressed a piece of the torn sweater against the length of the graze, and overlaid a few strips of tape to keep them in place. It was crude but effective. Barry said nothing else while he worked and as Len finished securing the tape, he looked up to see Barry’s left hand curled into a fist covering his mouth, eyes clenched shut and breathing rapidly.  
  
Len knew Barry was right, he was being an ass. The kid was in pain, probably afraid, and in Len’s own fear, he was treating him like shit. Len didn't handle fear well; it made him feel weak, powerless and those were not two things that he coped with in a healthy manner. His usual method was lashing out. But what unnerved him was that he wasn’t afraid of the situation he was in, what unnerved him was he that his fear was of losing Barry. At one time his foe, his nemesis, then a man he respected and company he enjoyed, whether it was working together or against each other. And then after joining the Legends, he realized that it was Barry who inspired him during that time to do the right thing. He’d even dare say he’d come to admire the kid. But seeing him now, like this, Len feared he’d lose one of the few things in his life that challenged him in all the best ways, one of the few things remaining in his life that brought him a spark of joy. He hadn’t realized that the kid meant that much to him, not until the terrifying realization of suddenly being without him.  
  
With a sigh, he leaned over and gripped Barry’s uninjured shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Len said quietly, willing the younger man to look at him. “I’m just... your shoulder, there’s no exit wound.”  
  
Barry pulled his hand away from his mouth and looked up at Len.  
  
“That’s not good,” was all Barry could respond.  
  
“I’m aware, Scarlet. Brilliant observation. Aren’t you supposed to be smarter than that?” Len teased and was thankfully rewarded with a small chuckle in response before Barry’s face clenched in a wince of pain.  
  
“With the bullet lodged in a muscle or bone, anytime my body tries to heal it’ll reopen the wound before it can,” Barry sighed, left hand moving to reach for his injured right shoulder.  
  
“What do you mean try to heal?” Len asked, lightly smacking the hand away before easing Barry to lean slightly to his left.  
  
“I heal fast. Part of my pow-ow!” Barry cried out as Len put pressure on the wound at the shoulder beneath him.  
  
“So you heal quickly, alcohol doesn’t affect you,” Len breathed as he pressed the torn sweater against the shoulder wound. “Any other tidbits about your powers I should know?”  
  
“Rule number one of being a hero,” Barry said through gritted teeth at the pressure against the injury as Len wrapped it with tape. “Don’t tell your nemesis your weaknesses.”  
  
“Please, we haven’t been nemeses for a while,” Len scoffed.  
  
“Arch rival?” Barry shrugged with his good shoulder, grateful for the levity between them.  
“I believe the term is frenemy,” Len forced a smile down at him and Barry couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the word coming out of Snart’s mouth before quickly turning to a groan.  
  
“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts,” Barry hissed, leaning his head back against the floor, closing his eyes as a wave of pain radiated from his side. “Frenemy. Is that why you're pissed at me but also helping me?”  
  
“Well, you saved me first by getting me out of the line of fire, seems only fair. And I’m pissed because you got blood on my favorite jacket,” Len replied, not looking at Barry’s face, easier to sell the lie that way. Instead, he gave another once over to see if he’d missed anything but instead he found the bandages on Barry’s thigh soaked red all the way through already. “Can you send the memo of the healing thing to your thigh?”  
  
“It might have nicked an artery...there are some pretty major ones in your thighs,” Barry breathed through the spasm of pain and Len could see how pale the young man had become. “My heart is pumping like crazy to make up for the...for the lack of oxygen due to blood loss...”  
  
“Only to cause even more blood to spill out of the wound,” Len sighed, familiar with the classic vicious cycle of the wounded body.  
  
“And my heart beats a lot faster than normal people,” Barry added, chest heaving as he tried to breathe through the pain and weakening of his body. “So, I could bleed out before my body even gets the chance to heal any of the bullet wounds.”  
  
“Well, let’s not do that,” Len grunted, layering up the remaining pieces of the torn sweater around the thigh wound and wrapping more tape as tight as he dared.  
  
“You should just leave...get yourself to safety.”  
  
Len tried to ignore how weak Barry sounded, the adrenaline having worn off and the injuries starting to finally take its toll.  
  
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Len leaned over where Barry lay, the suggestion from the voice laced with pain and short breaths finally forcing Len to look at Barry’s face again.  
  
“Len, we don’t know what they’re after. If they find us they might not hesitate to kill us,” Barry pleaded as he looked up into Len’s eyes, his eyes watery and desperate. “You just came back. Just go.”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you behind, Barry. I’m not that guy anymore, I’m never leaving anyone behind again,” Len didn't look away from Barry’s stare. Barry knew there was a story there, felt his own twinge of guilt at the notion of leaving someone behind, but now was not the time. “Now, there is a delivery service entrance at the back of this building. If we can get through there undetected we can get out of here. It’s not far, down this hall, two lefts and three rights.”  
  
“How could you possibly-“  
  
“Please, Scarlet. I’ve memorized the blueprint schematics and layout of every place I frequent,” Len said dismissively before he noticed the new bandages at the thigh already darkly stained.  
  
"Of course you have,” Barry mumbled, voice quiet and strained as Len quickly scanned the office, finding nothing else to act as a makeshift bandage before pressing his hands firmly against the thigh wound. Barry let out a hiss, his left hand reaching to grasp at Len’s sleeve to pull it away, to escape the new source of pain. His eyes clenched tightly and Len could see the tears escaping.  
  
“I’m sorry, Barry, I know it hurts. I have to do something to slow this bleeding, you’re gonna be fine.” He was rambling now, not sure if it was for Barry’s benefit or his own, when the fist clenching his sleeve dropped to his side.  
  
“Len,” Barry whispered, voice just a breath as he tried to pull in air, shallow and labored. Len saw something desperate in his expression before his eyes rolled closed, head lolling to the side as he lost consciousness. Len reached a bloodstained hand to palm Barry’s cheek, the skin cold to the touch. He let his fingers slide down Barry’s damp skin, checking the pulse at his throat. Frantic but weak. Rapid heartbeat, shallow breathing, cold and clammy skin, Barry was going into shock.  
  
“Barry, just stay with me. Open your eyes, Scarlet, please,” Len couldn’t explain the panic that started to rise. It hit him suddenly, fear surging through his body at the thought of Central City without Barry Allen, his life without the one person who in his own annoying way became a constant he could depend on in a world with so few for him.  
  
Suddenly, Len could hear voices outside the hallway now. Their attackers or help, he didn’t know and at this rate didn’t care. He needed to get Barry to wake up, had to get him out of here.  
  
“Barry! Barry!” Len put pressure on the thigh wound with one hand while his other cupped his cheek, now stained with his own blood that had soaked Len’s hands. It was like a fist clenching his heart, voice cracking with desperation as he yelled at him. “Wake up, kid!”  
  
The voices got louder and he was able to recognize one in particular.  
  
“In here! Help!” He shouted out. With a crash, the door kicked in and never did Len think he’d be relieved to see a cop, especially Joe West.  
  
“Snart?!” Was his outburst, gun pointed directly at Len till he realized who was laying beneath the former criminal. “Barry!”  
  
“He’s dying!” Len shouted back, eyes shifting back to Barry who still lay prone beneath him, gently patting the cheek beneath his hand in hopes to stir the unresponsive man. He didn’t see Joe move closer or press the distress button on his phone, before dropping to his knees beside them.  
  
Within moments, a blue vortex opened and Cisco Ramon came through, breach extrapolator in one hand with one of their pulse rifles in the other that he had grabbed in order to rush at Joe’s call. Cisco didn’t even have a chance to speak or to register what was happening before Joe called out orders.  
  
“Take him to S.T.A.R. Labs,” Joe braced a hand on Len’s shoulder before looking up to Ramon. “Save him!”  
  
Len eased his elbow under Barry’s neck, sliding his other arm beneath his knees as he lifted him from the floor, Barry’s head lolling against Len’s shoulder. He staggered for a minute under the weight before turning to follow Ramon through the breach which led them straight into the Cortex of S.T.A.R. Labs.  
  
“Caitlin!” Cisco called out before turning to Len, “Bring him in here.”  
  
Snart followed Cisco through a doorway into a medical room that branched off from the main hub. He carefully lowered the unresponsive man in his arms to lay upon the gurney just as Caitlin Snow and some tall guy that Len had never seen before came running in through the hall entrance.  
  
“What happened to him?” she barked out into the room, leaning over Barry, peeling back his eyelids to shine her penlight.  
  
“Three gunshot wounds, his shoulder still has the bullet lodged in it,” Len supplied, not yet leaving Barry’s side as he shifted to the foot of the bed and applied pressure to the still bleeding thigh wound, holding the limb between his hands. Len watched Caitlin lift Barry’s upper body slightly to peel back the tape to examine the shoulder wound as Cisco moved around them, quickly and efficiently attaching a pulse oximeter to Barry’s finger on his left hand and heart monitor electrodes to his chest. The two scientists were a well-oiled machine when it came to tending to an injured Barry Allen, an unfortunate byproduct of years of crimefighting.  
  
"Cisco, get an oxygen mask on him while I start an IV line. Ralph, get five units of blood from the freezer and thaw them in hot water as we practiced. Hopefully, we won't need them all.” Caitlin had become adept at not being distracted by the ear-piercing beeping of the monitors conveying that the patient’s vitals were at dangerous levels.  
  
Barry’s blood pressure was dropping and his heart rate increasing. Len could only watch and keep pressure on the thigh wound as Caitlin took shears and cut the fabric of Barry’s shirt.  
  
“Are you hurt?” She asked, sparing him a look before returning her focus back to her task. Len was confused at the question at first, looking down at his own chest and arms to see himself stained in blood.  
  
“No, it’s his,” Len swallowed, voice tight with concern.  
  
“Okay,” she replied curtly as Cisco rolled over a metal tray with surgical equipment. Len watched her take command of the room and he found himself impressed with the ease and expertise in which Barry’s crew functioned. She didn’t spare him another glance as she immediately set to work prepping Barry for surgery, barking more orders to the room as she remained focused before directing her attention back at Len. “Go put on a pair of gloves from that counter over there, get the gauze from the third drawer on the right and come back and help me.”  
  
Len wasn’t sure why he listened and did as he was ordered, wasn’t sure why he helped through the surgical process when he could, or why he answered Joe’s questions about what happened when the man joined them two hours later. What he was even less sure of was why after three hours he was still here, dried blood staining his arms, hands, and clothes, hovering by the door of the medbay watching Caitlin check Barry’s vitals and barely listening to the exchange behind him in the Cortex.  
  
“They’re part of an anti-capitalist terrorist group. They were not interested in robbing the bank but instead causing bloodshed to make a point,” Joe explained to Cisco, Iris and the new guy Len learned was Ralph.  
  
“Two of the terrorists were shot dead by police. Twelve people injured including Barry but not in critical condition,” Iris added, scrolling through the report on the computer at the console in front of her. “Reports are saying between customers and employees, the Flash saved thirty-five people before he disappeared.”  
  
“Barry and Snart are being included in that thirty-five count since surveillance footage has them at the bank, not to mention Barry’s blood on the scene,” Cisco sighed, leaning against the console.  
  
“And the video doesn’t reveal that Barry is the Flash?” Ralph asked.  
  
“He moved fast enough it just looks light lightning swept him away,” Joe scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “Just another person rescued by the Flash.”  
  
“Luckily the Flash had help otherwise we could have lost him,” Iris said. Len sensed his cue, dropping his head, chin to his chest and taking a deep breath before turning on his heel to face the gathered crowd in the Cortex.  
  
“Not that we’re ungrateful, but aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Ralph pointed at him.  
  
“It didn’t take,” he said with as much snark as he could muster at the moment, satisfied with the nervous look on the new guys face as he dropped the pointing finger.  
  
“You saved him. Why?” Joe asked, looking directly at Len, no sign of the disgust he’d seen in the older man’s gaze in the past, just a cautious appraisal. Maybe it was because West was tired, or worried about his son, or maybe because of Len’s new affiliation with allies of Team Flash that his mistrust wasn’t at the forefront of his judgment of the former criminal.  
  
Len thought about deflecting, answering with a snide remark about how saving the Flash meant a better chance of saving himself or not being blamed as participating in the crime if he’d let the man die. But as he folded his arms over his chest, the fabric and skin tight with dried blood, Len realized he didn’t care enough to try to prove a reputation he no longer felt aligned with, especially to people who actually knew better. And more importantly, Len was too disturbed by the distress he had felt today that he couldn’t even gather the strength to lie to himself, never mind them.  
  
Caitlin’s description of the injuries kept circling in his head. The fact that he had three gunshot wounds with nothing major directly hit or even nicked, just muscle and tissue damage, was damn miraculous. She had said that because of the direct angle of the gunshot it had been a miracle that the bullet to Barry’s shoulder had lodged itself in the back of one of his ribs, that if it had gone straight through he would have bled out almost twice as quickly. If the bullet had hit him at a more diagonal angle, it could have traveled through Barry’s heart causing instantaneous death. If Len hadn’t acted as quickly to staunch the blood flow, Barry would have lost even more blood than he had, leading to hypovolemia and shock in minutes followed by immediate shutting down of his organs. It had been close. Too close for Len. Too much and too draining to even pretend to be aloof about any of it.  
  
“The Flash wasn’t there today,” Len finally spoke, meeting the expectant gaze of the people gathered around that cared about Barry Allen, “and neither was Captain Cold. It was just Leonard Snart and Barry Allen and Leonard Snart doesn’t have an issue with Barry Allen.”  
“Are you saying if he was in costume, you wouldn’t have helped?” Ralph asked, voice suspicious. Len couldn’t blame him.  
“I’m saying,” Len shook his head, pushing himself away from the door frame, “Barry needed my help after saving a bank full of people including myself. So I helped him.”  
  
“And Captain Cold’s heart grew three sizes that day,” Cisco remarked in response. Len saw Iris smile slightly before sharing a strange look with Ramon, Ralph scratching his head like he didn’t know what to say. Joe eyed him up and down before walking towards him.  
  
“Thank you,” the cop said, quiet and tight like he wasn’t entirely confident with his actions as he held out a hand. Len let it hang there for a moment, toying with the notion of not reciprocating but then he thought about all the times he’d given the man in front of him enough fodder to point a gun at him rather than extend a hand and Len knew that if he wanted to move forward, he’d have to take the steps to leave that behind.  
  
Len clasped the hand in his own, shaking it tightly once before they separated. As Len pulled his hand away, seeing the dried blood still coating his hands, something overcame him that instigated his fight or flight mode.  
  
“Tell the kid when he wakes up,” Len said, not speaking to anyone of them specifically, “this wasn’t the kind of fun I had in mind.”  
  
With one last glance over his shoulder into the medbay room, seeing the steady beeping lines on the monitor indicating Barry’s vitals were stable, Len exited the Cortex. He didn’t belong there, didn’t belong with the people keeping vigil over their friend, their loved one. He wasn’t that to Barry, and Barry wasn’t that to him. He wasn’t sure what they were to each other but this wasn’t the time or the place to figure that out. Who would’ve thought though that it was a question he would even want to know the answer to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Who Would Have Thought" by Darren Hayes


	4. What You Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hand in hand we float across the room  
>  Explosions deep inside  
>  Cheek to cheek, there’s clouds under my feet  
>  There’s only you and I  
>  Please tell me what you like, does that feel nice, give me a sign  
>  If you love it I can do it again  
>  We’ve got the rest of the night to get it right  
>  Please tell me what you like, if that feels nice, give me a sign  
>  If you love it I can do it again  
>  We’ve got the rest of our lives to get it right"

It had started with a phone call. It was only a day after the fiasco at the bank, although fiasco didn’t feel like a strong enough description for the fear he had felt yesterday. He had been there to take a withdrawal to pay for some furniture for the new apartment he’d procured after returning to Central, deciding to use the funds of ‘Len Colden’ where he had kept a modest amount of money secured over years of investing. Of course, it was investments with stolen money but that was neither here nor there as far as Len was concerned. Instead of making the withdrawal and heading to the furniture store after, Len found the man he’d given his number to two weeks before and gotten into a situation where he’d almost lost him before they could even get to the reason he had given him his number to begin with.  
  
He’d spent an hour washing the blood off his hands and arms, scrubbing violently, his wicked mind unwilling to let go of the irony of it all. Years ago, what was almost quite literally another life, he’d been so desperate to kill the Scarlet Speedster, a threat to his very carefully contrived way of life. How far they’d come, how far he’d come. And now the blood caked on his skin made him nearly vomit at how close it’d been to being too much blood, to being too close to losing someone before he even got the chance to really know him. That thought alone, losing Barry before he could even figure out what he wanted him to mean to him, that idea made Len was the most unreversed he’d felt since coming back to life, more empty and more lonely than the reminders of his old life.  
  
It took every ounce of willpower he had not to check in on Barry. So here he was instead, a day later, walking the streets downtown to the local furniture store after stopping at an ATM (using it, not robbing it), trying to distract himself from the desire to go back to S.T.A.R. Labs to check on Barry. Then the phone in his jacket pocket started to ring, the ID reading ‘Scarlet’ and Len didn’t even try to fight the sigh of relief.  
  
“Barry?” Len answered, wincing at how pathetic he sounded. Where was the bravado, the sarcasm, the witty cold demeanor?  
  
“Hey,” the voice on the other line answered. It was quiet, strained in discomfort, but still somehow strong. Len’s relief at hearing that voice washed away all his frustration with himself at not even attempting to try to play the cat and mouse game they’d become so adept at.  
  
“You’re okay,” Len sighed. It wasn’t a question, although he did want the other man to reassure him that he was.  
  
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Len could practically hear the shy smile over the phone before the voice added, “Thanks to you.”  
  
“Well, you saved me first. Seemed only fair,” Len stopped walking, leaning back against the brick building, suddenly losing focus on where he was going and only able to concentrate on the quiet words coming from the other side of the phone.  
  
“You kept me safe, you risked your life for me,” Barry paused, “you comforted me.”  
  
“How ‘bout we call it even,” Len replied, uncomfortable with the sincerity, the phone in his hand suddenly feeling heavy.  
  
“I wouldn’t say ‘even’. The least I can do is take you out for a cup of coffee or something.”  
  
“Oh Scarlet, don’t sell yourself short. Your life is certainly worth more than a simple cup of coffee,” Len didn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips, relief now coming from the sense of normalcy in the banter.  
  
“Well, I’ve already wiped your file clean.” There was that small chuckle again and Len knew there was no going back now.  
  
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”  
  
“What did you have in mind, exactly?” Barry asked with amused hesitance.  
  
“How long do you think you’ll be laid up?” Len asked ignoring his question.  
  
“Normally, bullet wounds take less than a day to heal for me but the blood loss set me back a bit.” The casualness in which Barry said that made something twist in Len’s gut. Like when Dr. Snow had informed him that painkillers and anesthetics didn’t work on Barry because of his speedster metabolism. It had nearly made Len sick to think of having to go through what Barry had over the last six years without the aid of pain relief; it had nearly made him sick but it also reminded him of just how damn strong this kid was.  
  
“Caitlin said I should be okay by tomorrow.” Barry’s words shook Len out of his reverie to be able to respond, finally able to slip into that well-practiced tone of confidence and aloofness.  
  
“Good. Take three days,” Len replied. “I’ll text you the address and time to meet me. That’ll give me enough time to figure out just what it is you can give me as payment for saving your life.”  
  
“Snart-“  
  
“It’s Len, remember,” he interrupted, “and relax, Barry. I’m a semi-reformed man.”  
  
Barry sighed and chuckled and Len could almost see him closing his eyes and rubbing at the back of his neck, a constant observed tell of the man when he was unsure, something Len assumed Barry was at the present moment. And rightfully so. It’s not every day you get asked out on a date by someone who had tried to kill you in the past.  
  
Barry had agreed after taking a thoughtful pause. They said their goodbyes and hung up, Len left standing on a street corner with the knot of worry in his gut transformed into a different kind of feeling, almost forgetting for a moment what he had previously been doing. He took a deep breath and immediately calmed, reminding himself this was just like planning a heist. Make the plan, execute the plan, and pray that when it inevitably went off the rails, they wouldn’t end up crashing and burning.

____________________________________________

Len found himself adjusting his watch for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes. He’d picked the barely-there lint off of his dark charcoal blazer, tugged on the hem of the black v-neck he wore underneath, checked that his tapered dark jeans were crisp and not a scuff was present on his black boots. He wasn’t sure if he was anxious about the fact that he was going on a date with Barry Allen or the fact that his said date was late, maybe coming to his senses and ditching Leonard completely. What was worse was Len was a relatively confident man and the fact that he was nervously adjusting his clothing every few moments in preparation was irritating the hell out of him.  
  
Just as he was about to take the watch off and put in his pocket just so he wouldn’t look at it again he saw Barry Allen heading in his direction. The younger man was dressed in a maroon sweater, the collar and hem of a gray and maroon plaid button-up peeking out, skinny gray jeans, and his ever-present converse high tops. He smiled shyly as he caught Len’s eye, speeding up his walking pace to that of a normal jog till he came to stand in front of Len.  
  
“Hey,” Barry greeted, running a hand to smooth over his windswept hair, “Sorry I’m a bit late.”  
  
“Hardly noticed,” Len smirked back, pulling the blazer sleeve down to cover his watch. “Besides, you’re only human, it’s not like you have super speed.”  
  
The chuckle and bashful smile was just the reaction he was looking for. Barry looked around at the street corner they stood on, clearly unfamiliar with the surroundings in this part of the city. Len wasn’t surprised. There wasn’t a lot to Lawrence Hills, it mostly being an industrial area, but it did have a few restaurants that were hidden gems in Central City.  
  
“So what did you have in mind?” Barry asked, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, bouncing back and forth on his heels.  
  
“I asked you to meet me here after you so generously offered to repay me for saving your life the other day,” Len tilted his head, arms folding over his chest.  
  
“Right,” Barry nodded, before repeating his question with hesitant amusement, emphasizing the last word, “so what did you have in mind?”  
  
“Your time, Barry,” Len replied, turning on his heel and walking down the sidewalk, Barry following and walking in stride. “I told you at Saints and Sinners that I owed you a meal, I’d like to make good on that.”  
  
“So your idea of me paying you back for saving my life is you taking me out?” Barry asked, incredulous amusement in his tone. When Len didn’t respond, Barry stopped and reached a hand out to Len’s arm, stopping the other man as well. “This is for real right? You better not just be messing with me.”  
  
Len turned to face him, wanting to confess to Barry how scared he had been at the thought of losing him the other day, of watching the life fade from the eyes, the kindest eyes he’d ever seen. He wanted to tell Barry that ever since that time he forced Cisco to reveal who the Flash was that Len had been plotting how best to use that information to his advantage. That the problem there was that it stopped being a con and scheme and became a curiosity. That Barry Allen had changed him and Len wanted more. But he couldn’t be that open, not yet, not that much. But maybe he could share a little.  
  
“I died, Barry,” Len said instead. “I died just when I started to learn things about myself and I realized there was still a lot I didn’t know. And that includes about you. Most of what I knew about you wasn’t nearly enough and you almost dying at the bank, it felt like our story was really just beginning and I’d run out of time to know more.”  
  
Len wasn’t sure if the emotions he felt were showing on his face, betraying the even tone of his voice as he decided to open up just a bit. Barry, however, displayed a range of emotions and Len wondered what it was like to be that naked, to wear your heart on your sleeve and have the world see it.  
  
“So if you’re willing, Barry, I’d like some of your time, take you out, talk, and get to know you,” Len finished, sidestepping to open the door of the nearby shop, Barry not even realizing he had stopped them in front of where Len had made reservations.  
  
“That’s it? That’s all you want?” Barry inquired. It wasn’t disbelief in his voice but hope, a hope that sparked a similar sentiment in Len.  
  
“You’re selling yourself short again,” Len replied, smiling in satisfaction when Barry blushed slightly.  
  
“Okay, deal. But just a heads up, I am not a cheap date,” Barry smiled, ducking his head in thanks before entering the restaurant, completely unaware of the sigh of relief Len let out before following him in.

_________________________________________

They walked side by side, enjoying the spring dusk air as they strolled through Central City Park. Dinner had been perfect, Len having ordered them an array of appetizers and entrees for them “to try”, suspecting that Barry needed to eat more than a normal person with the super metabolism Dr. Snow had mentioned, and not wanting the kid to be shy about it. The grin Barry had as he dug his fork into dish after dish told Len he’d managed to be right without being presumptuous.  
  
For three hours over food and wine, they’d had casual and wonderful conversations, surprisingly ordinary and refreshingly effortless. They asked the mundane and standard first date questions, amused at how almost absurd it was that the Flash and Captain Cold were discussing the basic essentials of their lives. For Barry, there was no hesitance in sharing his story with Len, no fear of giving out information that could be used against him by a former rival. For Len, he had never been this open before with anyone, never given away anything of the private life he held so closely guarded. For both of them though, sharing this wasn’t even a conscious choice, it just happened organically as they both let their guard down and willingly allowed themselves to unfold.  
  
Len told Barry of how he grew up in Leawood, the blue-collar neighborhood a couple of blocks from Central City Stadium where he and his grandfather used to sit in the park next to the ball field and listen to the Diamonds’ games. Barry told him of how he grew up in Danville, first on the east side with his parents and then on the north side with Joe and Iris, of how living so close to his old house took him two months to stop accidentally turning onto the wrong street on his way home or taking the wrong bus when he left school alone on the days Iris stayed after.  
  
They talked of their favorite movies, ‘Shawshank Redemption’ for Len and ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ for Barry. They talked of books and music, Len sharing that his favorite song was “Who Wants to Live Forever” by Queen, and Barry’s favorite album was “Rubber Soul” by the Beatles. Barry had smiled sadly when Len had asked him about it. He told him that his mother’s favorite song was “In My Life”, shared with him of how she used to sing it to him as lullaby growing up, that she told Barry it was their song. Barry’s eyes misted as he told Len that his mom had lost a lot in her life, but how Nora had said she felt complete when they had Barry, like she’d gotten the family she’d always wished for, that Henry was the love of her life but Barry was her dream come true. Len had reached out a hand to clasp over Barry’s atop the table as he shared the intimate story of his mother. Len couldn’t relate to the kind of love and loss that Barry felt as he talked about his mother, but he could almost feel the emotions radiating off of Barry. It was intoxicating to see someone feel things so deeply. Len couldn’t imagine it himself, but to be an extension of that for Barry as he provided a small touch of comfort, it felt to Len like a purpose.  
  
“Raymond had said something our first night on the Waverider that stuck with me, about someone putting a cap on my destiny,” Len said now as they strolled through the park, Barry to his left so close their arms nearly brushing against each other. They were in the second hour of their walk around the city, even having stopped for ice cream on the edge of the park. It had all seemed pedestrian, so unnaturally normal that Len would have scoffed at the idea of it had it not felt so nice, how they had yet to run out of things to share, things Len had never shared with anyone. “It made me think about how I’d boxed myself in, how in my efforts to be better than my father I still continued his legacy, a legacy of pain and selfishness. Working with the team, I got a taste of what it was like to be a part of something bigger than yourself and your own interests. It felt like real freedom. I liked it.”  
  
He looked to Barry who was smiling at him knowingly as Len spoke, ignoring the playful shoulder nudge Barry gave that implied the ‘I told you so’ that thankfully Barry had the decency not to say out loud.  
  
“Okay your turn, honesty time,” Len moved on quickly. “What happened between you and Iris?”  
  
“Isn’t that like cardinal date rule number one? Don’t discuss exes,” Barry laughed, looking away.  
  
“I don’t know if you’re aware of this Scarlet, but rules aren’t really my thing,” it was Len’s turn to give a playful shoulder nudge. “Spill, kid. After going to the trouble of almost getting eaten by a shark wearing pants to help save her, you could at least tell me what happened.”  
  
“Not much to tell really,” Barry finally replied. “Well that’s not true, there’s actually a lot to tell. I love Iris more than anything, things just didn’t turn out the way we thought. Maybe if things were the way they were originally supposed to be.”  
  
“Originally?” Len asked, slightly relieved that Barry didn’t speak of Iris with sadness or anger but acceptance. It meant it was mutual, it meant it was amicable, it meant that Barry was ready to move on.  
  
“Before the Reverse Flash changed the timeline to kill my younger self but instead killed my mom, Iris and I were supposed to be married. But in that timeline we didn’t grow up together, we lived a different version of our lives,” Barry explained, hands moving in front of him as he talked to further express his story as if it would somehow help make sense of it all. He told Len of how they discovered Barry wasn’t supposed to become the Flash till 2020, and of how Thawne manipulated them all just so he could get home back to his time. He told Len of the last year, of his daughter from the future and how Thawne had tricked her into manipulating the timeline yet again to the point of erasing herself out of existence, and of how Iris and Barry’s marriage couldn’t survive it.  
  
“Our relationship with each other is still the most profound connection either of us has. But to move toward a future without Nora?” Barry paused, unable to hide the hitch in his voice as he said the name of the daughter he lost. “It’s better this way. I mean it took a while, a lot of nights holding each other crying, nights fighting. We both felt that grief of losing her, and then realizing we were no longer in love with each other, we grieved that too. But we worked through it, together, and now we can both move forward with our lives, still best friends, still partners, but without that pressure of trying to move towards a future that felt predestined for us and out of our control.”  
  
“No strings on you,” Len nodded before asking a question he was afraid to know the answer to. “And that’s good, right?”  
  
“It is,” Barry sighed, smiling at Len before averting his gaze straight ahead as they strolled. “There’s no pressure to become the people we’re allegedly supposed to be and instead we can just be who we are now. Things are like they were before; we still spend way too much time together, tell each other everything. She’s still the person I turn to when I’m happy or sad and she’s still the person I trust most in this world. The only difference is we’re not intimate anymore, just like the only difference then was becoming intimate. And honestly, we’re happier this way. She’s my platonic soulmate and things are good. That’s why I wear this most days.”  
  
Barry reached beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled out a thin silver chain with what looked like two wedding bands hanging from it.  
  
“It's a nice reminder of what we had, who we are now because of it. She still wears my mom’s ring. It reminds us of what we mean to each other, even though its changed,” Barry’s face dropped suddenly, panic seeping in as he realized what he’d just revealed. “That’s not weird, is it? You’re not weirded out, are you?”  
  
“Relax, Barry,” Len chuckled, reaching a hand to put Barry affectionately on the back. “I get it, I really do. She means a lot to you. That would be petty of me to think she suddenly didn’t. Besides, I’m not the jealous type.”  
  
That was a lie. Len did not like sharing. But he believed Barry when he said it was over, had no reason to think otherwise, or be jealous of Iris. The kid was not a good liar, not that Len had caught him in very many. Besides, they all had a past. He couldn’t judge Barry for his connection to his, in fact, he kind of envied how deep Barry’s love ran for the people in his life.  
  
“Yeah, I don’t know if I believe that but thank you, for not making a big deal out of it. My story wouldn’t be complete without Iris in it and you understanding our friendship, means a lot,” Barry beamed at him, tucking in the necklace beneath his collar once more. “She’s saved my life over and over and she saved me from my own mind when I came out of the Speed Force. She’s the only person that could have.”  
  
“It’s funny. Mick was the one who in the end was able to get through to me when I came out of the time stream,” Len remarked, thinking back. “It took him a few months rather than a day, but he’s the only one that would have been able to reach me. Not even Lisa. Mick always took me at face value, saw through my bullshit bravado, or lies. Saved my life the first time I met him, never let me try to protect him. We were equals always. Made it easier to withdraw when we needed time apart but it made it harder when we’d fall out. He reminded me of who I was, not who I tried to be, whether it was the good or the bad. Sometimes that's a good thing but sometimes it held me back, but it was always a return to center.”  
  
“Like an anchor,” Barry nodded, “like Iris is my lightning rod.”  
  
“Maybe,” Len nodded, taking the moment to stop walking, looking up at the night sky.  
  
“Do you miss him and the team?” Barry asked, moving to stand in front Len, afraid to ask the next question on his mind but needing to know. “Are you gonna go back with them?”  
  
“Nah,” Len shook his head, stopping to turn and face Barry. “Been there, done that. And after time traveling, stopping an immortal from destroying the future, dying, and being lost in time itself, I’m looking for a new kind of adventure.”  
  
“Does that mean new heists and new ways to keep the Flash on his toes?” It was Barry’s turn to smirk, not realizing he was taking a step forward closer to Len.  
  
“Diamonds, money, breaking and entering, it just doesn’t hold the same thrill it once did after all that,” Len tilted his head, leaning in closer till he was just inches apart from Barry. “If I’m going to be tempted to steal something it’s going to have to be truly one of a kind; more precious than any priceless stone or trinket.”  
  
“Like what?” Barry asked quietly, swallowing nervously.  
  
But Snart didn’t say anything, just smirked at him before looking at his watch.  
  
“Six hours and no shots fired,” Len smiled. “That’s a new record for us.”  
  
Len could feel that twist in his gut again when Barry chuckled, a sound so wholly innocent with bright green eyes eyeing him up and down.  
  
“I can’t believe we did this. That you and I...” Barry marveled, smiling. He looked away, shaking his head, before turning back to look at Len. “This was really weird but nice. We should do this again.”  
  
“I’d like that,” was Len’s response, voice conveying his satisfaction Barry gave him a strange look then like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “What?”  
  
“When did you know?” the younger man finally asked.  
  
“When did I know what?” Len asked, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“When did you know,” Barry began to fidget with his hands as he stood in front of Len, trying to find the words, “that you were, ya know, interested in me?”  
  
“Who says I am,” Len winked, unable to stop the laugh that came out of him as Barry shoved at his shoulders playfully. The push destabilized Len slightly and he reached out to grab Barry’s arms to get his balance back. They stood there then, holding on to each other’s arms. He'd never been fond of physical displays of affection, never been around people who handed it out freely and without ulterior motives, and he was more likely to associate touch with violence than kindness, but he found himself reluctant to push Barry away, found himself wanting to hold on tighter.  
  
“When the whole thing with Lewis went down,” Len said, dropping the aloof act as his hands tenderly gripped Barry’s arms. “When you walked into Saints and Sinners there was something different about the way you sauntered in.”  
  
“I do not saunter,” Barry smiled as he rolled his eyes, giving Len’s forearms in his hands a little squeeze.  
  
“After that whole ordeal, I couldn’t help but see you differently,” Len continued, staring into Barry’s green eyes, trying not to get lost in them. “And then at Christmas with Mardon, I wanted to help you but I knew if I did, there’d be no going back. Everything you’d said about me would have been right and I was not ready to commit to that yet. And I was definitely not ready for you to think you were right about me, you’d have been insufferable.”  
  
“That’s when I knew too,” Barry dipped his head, smiling shyly at Len, flustered enough that he passed over the teasing comment completely as he dropped his hands from Len’s arms.  
  
“Even though I killed him?” Len couldn’t help but ask the question.  
  
“I don’t agree with it but I understand why,” Barry replied simply, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking down at his sneakers before looking back at up Len. “He tried to kill Lisa. Honestly, I would probably have reacted the same way if someone tried to kill Joe or Iris. But I want you to know, I wouldn’t have let him hit that switch.”  
  
“Well if you were fast enough to do that you could have stopped me from killing him,” Len pointed out, a swell of warmth at Barry’s words. He knew it was true, knew Barry wouldn’t have let anything happen to Lisa. Barry was a hero. But part of Len liked to think he wouldn’t have let anything happen to Lisa because of what she meant to Len.  
  
Barry just shrugged, not denying or confirming anything with a coy little smile as he rocked back and forth on his heels.  
  
“Helping you stop Lewis, working beside you. It felt good, felt like it could be like that all the time. I had really wanted you to fight alongside me with Mardon and Jesse when you broke into Joe’s house to warn me.”  
  
“I wasn’t ready yet to be that,” Len admitted, voice soft as they unintentionally leaned closer towards each other. “If Miss West hadn’t been there, however, I might have kissed your right there when you pushed me up against the fireplace.”  
  
“I might have let you,” Barry whispered back, almost closing the distance between them before he realized what was happening. He moved back, now at arm's length from Len instead of inches away.  
  
“My turn to ask a question,” Len stated, waiting for Barry’s approving nod before continuing. “You didn’t call after I gave you my number and asked you out that night at the bar.”  
  
“I didn’t hear a question in that,” Barry dipped his head before looking up back up at Len, answering the unasked question. “I was scared.”  
  
“To go out with me, because of our history,” Len finished the sentence.  
  
“No,” Barry replied quickly, shaking his head, “because our history didn’t even cross my mind. I was scared because I wasn’t scared. Does that make sense?”  
  
“Yeah,” Len nodded. “Perfect sense.”  
  
Barry bit his lip as Len watched uncertainty and hesitance shine through his eyes before Barry released the bottom lip from his teeth and smiled shyly at him instead.  
  
“I should go,” Barry said suddenly, taking a step back. “Thank you for tonight.”  
  
“Night, Barry” Len responded as Barry patted Len on the shoulder before turning to leave.  
  
As Barry turned away, Len reached for Barry’s elbow and tugged the man back towards him, sliding his other arm to wrap around his waist, pulling him against him, lips meeting. Barry moved into the kiss after only a second of being stunned, wrapping his arms around Len’s neck as the other man’s hands traveled up his back.  
  
Len kissed him deeply, slowly, breathing him in as Barry did the same, suspended in that moment that Barry could swear it was like they’d entered Flashtime. Their first meeting of lips felt simultaneously like the spark of something new and the practiced dance of seasoned partners. They moved in tandem, if Barry’s lips were the question, Len’s were the answer. If Barry’s kiss was like the need for air, Len’s kiss was the air supply.  
  
When they pulled away from the kiss it was as if time continued to move in slow motion, the embrace easing slowly. Barry just gazed up at Len for a long moment, saying nothing, hands traveling slowly from around his neck to rest on Len’s chest. Len just ran his deep gaze over the man standing in front of him, hands resting on Barry’s hips, thumbs massaging gently relishing the soft feel of the sweater but wishing it was skin beneath his hands.  
  
“Scarlet,” Len whispered but was cut off by Barry leaning in for another kiss, this one quick and chaste before pulling away and sending chills that felt so good down Len’s spine when Barry whispered back.  
  
“Where’s your place?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "What You Like" by Darren Hayes


	5. I Like the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pour yourself over me until there’s nothing left to se  
>  Because I like the way you move in the dark  
>  And I like the tension, the tension and the spark  
>  This physicality, shifting me chemically  
>  Such power over me, it’s just desire"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut ahead

The super speed to his apartment was nowhere near as disorienting as kissing Barry Allen was. The passion and fire that burned between them was like a spark suddenly lighting a flame that had been itching to be ignited.

“Ahh-mmmm” Barry moaned as his back slammed against the hallway wall and his mouth was devoured by Len. Barry’s back arched up as Len used one hand to pin his body against the wall at the hip while the other fumbled in his pocket for the key to the apartment. Finally finding the key, Len groped for the door handle without looking, never breaking away from Barry’s lips. Their hips thrust against each other just as the key finally found its mark and slid into the keyhole so they could open the door and continue in private, hopefully in the bedroom but at least lucky enough to get into the apartment before it got any further.

Len pulled away reluctantly, but only long enough to drag the other man into the apartment and slam the door shut behind him. Barry immediately forced Len back against the door and the two set to work undressing each other.

Barry’s hands were on him, shoving the blazer off of Len’s shoulders as Len pulled the sweater up and over Barry’s head before blindly working on the buttons to the collared shirt underneath, all the while Barry tried distracting him by devouring his lips. Finally getting to the last button Len pulled away from Barry’s lips to examine the torso beneath the shirt only to stopped by a white T-shirt underneath.

“Are you kidding me, who wears this many layers?! What are you trying to hide, how scrawny you actually are?” Len laughed, head falling back against the wall behind him. Barry couldn’t help but join in the laugh as he reached to pull Len’s shirt up and over his head.

“Look whose talking! Why are you hiding these arms under sleeves all the damn time?” Barry’s fingers gripped at the biceps, hypnotized by the tattoos interwoven with scars all winding around the carved muscles. 

Len let Barry’s hands explore his chest and arms as he began working on Barry’s pants. He tugged the fly open and shoved the material down over his hips hastily, exposing Barry’s skin-tight black boxer briefs.

They pulled away only long enough for Barry to kick off his sneakers, slide his button-up shirt off his shoulders. and pull his pants off as Len removed his own belt and his pants slid down to the floor, leaving him in just charcoal briefs. 

As Len stepped out of his own pants and boots, he looked up just as Barry pulled the white t-shirt up over his head and Len stopped in his tracks. The body he’d longed to see, so lean and fit usually swathed in that tight-fitting red get-up. 

“Too scrawny?” Barry breathed, moving into Len’s space just enough that their erections tenting their respective briefs rubbed against each other. 

Scrawny wasn’t the word that came to his mind. Barry’s was long, lean, but tight abs, large biceps, and muscled calves with beautiful milky skin dusted with scattered freckles and moles. 

“No, perfect,” Len breathed, seeing the blush he’d become so fond of that he usually only saw on Barry’s face and neck almost seemed to make his body glow before embarrassment turned to lust. “Absolutely perfect.”

The necklace with the two rings still hung from Barry’s neck but without a thought, Len watched him as he pulled it over his head, gently tossing it onto his pile of clothes. Len smiled to himself as he saw that Barry didn’t even spare it a glance, didn’t hesitate to remove it from his body. It wasn’t the disregard of a married man removing his wedding band when having an affair; no, it was an inadvertent declaration that the rings were a token, not a torch, that he wore them as a memory, not an anchor tethering him to what was.

Barry pressed tightly against him suddenly, Len hoisting him up till he was wrapping his long legs around Len’s hips. Len brought an arm up to brace Barry’s back to keep him on his hips, as he spun them and moved so Barry was pressed back against the wall now. He reached down and grabbed Len by the nape of his neck, dipping his head so their lips met in a long, steamy kiss that made both their bodies ache.

“Wait, I need to grab condoms,” Len said, nearly breathless when he pulled away. 

“Damnit,” Barry muttered, dipping his head down and hungrily demanding another kiss before continuing. “I mean, I just don’t want to stop. I’m clean.”

“I’m clean too,” Len stated, taking the moment to really make sure they were on the same page. “Gideon gave me a clean bill of health before I left the ship and I haven’t been with anyone since.”

“Good enough for me,” Barry nodded before plunging again to claim Len’s lips. Len moved away from the wall, Barry sliding off his hips to stand on his own as they continued to kiss. They parted only long enough to each pull off their own underwear and Len then immediately grabbed Barry by the hips and pushed him back against the wall, his lips locked against his exchanging a savage kiss. 

Hitting the wall knocked Barry off balance but when Len's full forced slammed into him in turn it not only held him in place on the wall but knocked the breath out of him as well. Before he could catch his breath, however, Len's lips found his once again, breathing into him. Len’s mouth enveloped Barry’s, his tongue flicking almost violently in and out of Barry’s mouth, and quick sharp nips at his lips from his teeth. He could have sworn he even heard a growl mixed in there somewhere. 

"We can stop now if this is too much too fast," Len whispered as he pulled away, moving his hands to cup the sides of Barry’s neck. The sincerity in Len’s eyes, the fact that Len didn’t even realize the pun he’d made, gave Barry pause.

There was no going back after this. Once they crossed this line, things would change between them forever. Whether it was just tonight or something that continued, he’d be forever vulnerable in front of this man, especially with Len taking the lead the way he was. But there was an undeniable urge growing that he simply could not ignore. Barry paused, staring at the body he’d desired to touch like this for so many years without realizing how much, running his hands over the skin, loving the way the muscles twitched against his fingers.

“I like fast,” Barry whispered back, leaning in as his hands explored, running his tongue across Len’s lips, catching the sigh as Len’s mouth fell open and Barry’s tongue plunged in, lips sealed over lips.

“This is crazy,” Len laughed and he felt Barry smile against his lips.

“I was struck by lightning and got super speed. You travel through time regularly. Us hooking up is like kinda middle to low on the crazy scale,” Barry teased, nipping at Len’s bottom lip before capturing it in his mouth. 

Len’s hands traveled lower, his left hand down Barry’s neck, tracing down his lean body, his fingers first grazed over Barry’s tight abs. The exploring hand traced lower, sliding down his stomach and electing a sharp gasp as the other hand moved up Barry’s leg, Len swallowing Barry’s moan as they continued to kiss. His fingers traveled up till they reached his cock, his fingertips gliding over the underside and the head. Not gripping and stroking, just lightly touching and Barry couldn’t help it as his whole body vibrated suddenly. 

“Oh, fuck,” Barry moaned, pulling away from the kiss, head leaning forward onto Len’s shoulder as the sensation caused his body to react. 

“Did you just-“ Len pulled back, panting and laughing in astonishment. 

“Side effect of my powers when I get excited,” Barry groaned in embarrassment into the crook of Len’s neck before pulling back to meet Len’s eyes.

“You are fucking incredible,” Len marveled before diving back in, reclaiming his lips as he moved his right hand from Barry’s front to slide across Barry’s bare lower back while his left hand gripped at the muscles of his bare shoulder as the kiss deepened.

There was no other noise in the apartment except heavy breathing. Deep lungfuls and sighs from Barry’s mouth; long inhales and exhales from Len’s nose. The kiss was as messy and haphazard as it was long-awaited. It was desperate as they plunged into each other’s mouth ruthlessly. 

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted this,” Len whispered when they finally pulled away for air, moving both his hands to cup the back of Barry’s head, fingers entwining in his soft hair. He gently moved Barry’s face away from his own just enough to look into Barry’s eyes.

“Me too,” Barry replied, breathless. 

“I wasn’t completely honest before when you asked me when I knew I was interested,” Len paused in his confession to lean in for a deep kiss once more before continuing. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since the forest. You standing there trying to be intimidating, seeing your face for the first time, that body and that ass in those tight pants.”

“That look you gave me in Saints and Sinners when I came to you for help had me kinda wanting to press you against that pool table,” Barry teased, leaning forward with a coy smile to nudge his nose against Len’s. 

“Against a pool table, huh? I’ll remember that for later,” Len licked his lips, staring at Barry’s before meeting his eyes, holding the gaze as he continued, breathing the words more than speaking. “I mean it though, about wanting this. Not just this part, but everything. You. Me.”

“Same,” Barry replied, their gaze never breaking. “But let’s just worry about the sex part right now and the everything after.”

Len smirked as Barry dipped his head to lay kisses along Len’s jawline, occasionally scraping his teeth against the freshly shaven skin as Len wrapped his arms around Barry’s waist and walked them back further into the apartment. He only just realized they’d never made it past the front door and moved them backwards into the living space until the backs of his knees collided with the edge of the sofa, causing him to fumble backward till they collapsed onto the couch, Barry toppling over him before rolling off onto the floor, laughing as he landed.

“Nice to see your agility ends when the red suit comes off,” Len smiled, turning on his side on the couch to look down at Barry who was lying back against the wood floor in a fit of giggles. After a few moments, Barry calmed down enough to sit up and climb back onto the couch, stretching over Len’s body to pin the older man to the cushions.

“Yeah, but I always come out on top,” Barry smiled, straddling Len’s waist. Len didn’t argue or comment on the pride of the pun as Barry’s hungry lips pressed into his, their tongues plunging deep as Len humped his hips up against Barry, their cocks grinding against each other as teeth nipped at lips and tongues explored every inch of each other’s. 

Barry pulled away and, like a cat, bent over his old nemesis and new lover, crawling on his hands up the length of Len’s body, pressing his belly hard against his, grinding his stiff prick against Len’s own, both men groaning at the contact.

Barry’s hands pressed against his chest, warm as they caressed and explored up and down his skin, Len’s muscles twitching at the erotic touch. Barry slowly let his hand roam down Len’s side, squeezing the firm flesh at his waist and hip. Slowly sliding down Len’s body, Barry tongued his way from Len’s chest to his stomach, kissing every inch of muscled flesh as he went till he breathed over Len’s cock.

Len had no complaints as Barry took over setting the pace where Len had been doing the same moments before, pleasantly surprised with how at ease he was letting the other man lead. Barry licked across the head, quickly followed by taking it down his throat, swallowing, causing Len to arch up from the couch, driving his cock further into Barry’s mouth, moving his hands to thread through Barry’s hair, encouraging him to continue. Barry slid up and down the hard length of Len’s cock, running the flat of his tongue across the underside and dipping the tip into the slit, He felt his whole body tense as he took him down his throat and swallowed again, vibrating his tongue ever so slightly, lips sealed around the cock as he felt it pulse, cum spilling down his throat.  
  
“Oh shit!” Len cursed, biting his lip as he came.

Barry continued to suckle and lap at Len as he felt him relax after his climax, his breathing evened out and Barry moved back up his body, kissing his way to Len's lips. Leaning in, he licked along Len’s lips before sliding his tongue in his lover's mouth, letting Len taste himself and twisting their tongues together in slick heat.

With one swift move, Len wrapped his arms around Barry’s body, picked him up with a yelp from the smaller man and lowered them to the floor, Barry on his back with Len smirking as he hovered over him. Barry reached his hands up to touch Len but the broader man caught him by the wrists. He pinned his arms against the wood floor on either side of Barry’s head. 

“I don’t think you always come out on top,” Len’s voice was low and warm against his ear as he all but purred. “Something tells me you prefer to bottom.”

“Len,” Barry panted, tugging on the grip that pinned his arms down, arching his back up to Len’s touch. If Barry used to say his last name as a curse word, he said his first like a prayer, and Len found himself completely addicted to hearing Barry gasp his name. 

Len let go of his wrists, leaned up to reach into the nearby end table where in the drawer was a small tub of Vaseline. He moved back, allowing Barry to lift his legs up to his chest as Len moved back into position on top of him, sliding so Barry’s legs rested upon Len’s shoulders. 

Barry wanted to say more than just whisper the man’s name, tell him how much this meant to him, but all thoughts and sentiments went out the window as Len leaned over him, nuzzled into the curls around his cock. Len could feel the heat radiating off his lover's flesh onto his cheek as he breathed over Barry’s cock listening to his lover moan.

“Oh god,” Barry moaned. Len worked at the tip, licking the slit, then took it into his mouth until he had no more room. He began bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks, and sucking eagerly at his lover’s cock. While distracting Barry with his mouth on his cock, Len had slicked up his own with the Vaseline. Barry felt one of Len’s slicked fingers begin to rub against his tight hole, and then he began gently to work one fingertip inside, lightly and then more firmly prodding, pressing insistently but not forcing. Barry relaxed and let him in, and then the finger eased in deeper, and came out, and probed deeper and then out, and then it was two fingers, and Barry tightened a little and moaned loudly as Len continued to slide up and down his hard length with his mouth. Barry grabbed the back of Len’s neck as Len swallowed him whole. And then he eased again and Len slid his two fingers in deep and probed and rubbed and Barry moaned with pleasure as Len eased out and in and then it was three fingers, but that eased sooner than before. Then Len felt his lover’s whole body tense as he took him down his throat and swallowed again, Barry crying out as he climaxed, Len’s lips sealed around Barry’s cock as he felt it pulse cum spilling down his throat.  
  
“Fuck, Len,” Barry panted when Len pulled off his cock and eased his fingers out.  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Len teased, his eyes staring into Barry’s before he felt the softened shaft start to harden again already. Len could feel his own hardening but he had cum first before he’d slowly taken Barry apart with his mouth and fingers. Barry literally just came. “Wait, already?”  
  
“Small refractory period, thanks to my powers,” Barry stared back at him, green eyes wide with lust like a green light, encouraging Len to continue.  
  
“Oh, Flash, of all your powers I think this might be my favorite,” Len smiled with an intention that could only be described as devious. He positioned himself, bending the man beneath him a little more in half, his movements slow with the first gradual press of his cock as he pushed inside the hole he’d eased open with his fingers. Every thought in Barry’s head fractured and stopped. He groaned, biting his lip as Len's smooth length, warm and slick, slid in, the pressure of Len’s width and heat feeling so good as he entered.  
  
Barry nodded frantically, giving permission to an unspoken question, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping through his nose as Len’s cock, slicked up just enough and so slow, pressed into him farther, pausing and pushing as Barry gyrated back. Len pushed in further, further until Barry felt his full weight against his body, pausing only to move a hand to wrap around Barry’s cock, his own buried as deep inside of Barry as it could.  
  
Len’s pulling out felt just as good before he pushed back in.  
  
“Uhnnn,” Barry moaned as Len paused again, letting his cock rest in his ass. Barry blinked rapidly, fingers desperate to find something to grip as his hands pressed against the wood floors beneath him, short moans of pain and pleasure escaping as Len caressed his cock.  
  
Barry panted as Len buried his face against the crook of his neck, yelping when Len finally reared back on his knees, only to push back in so forcefully Barry’s body rocked across the floor. He felt his ass spasm involuntarily as Len rocked into him; driving in and out in a steady rhythm that made his toes curl.  
  
As Len’s rhythm grew, Barry desperately tried threading his fingers through the buzzed hair at the back of Len’s head, pulling the man’s head towards his lips, kissing desperate, gasping into each other’s open mouths, and then kissing again, and then back to heavy breathing.  
  
Barry couldn’t stop the vibrations wracking his body as he got lost in their rhythm, smiling in satisfaction as Len gasped and moaned into his mouth as he vibrated against him. Len picked up speed then, his thrusts knocked him back over and over as he pumped harder into Barry’s ass, pumping Barry’s cock in time with his thrusts, feeling his own desire gathering to its height. Barry knew he couldn't last much longer. Feeling Len's hard cock inside him, his weight holding him down, tasting Len's grunts and moans between kisses, feeling the calloused hand around his cock; it was all too much. He felt the skin of his entire body shiver and flash with heat and knew from the intensity in his balls that he was going to cum.  
  
It was the whisper that did it.  
  
One word, ‘Scarlet’; soft dry lips pressed deliberately to his ear as Len rolled his hips against him. Just the sound of Len whispering his fond nickname and Barry was seeing bright lights behind his eyelids and panting through an orgasm which ripped through his body in waves and surged out of his cock to soak his and Len’s chest. Barry felt his ass tighten around Len's cock right before he heard Len let out an animalistic growl and pick up speed. Barry was breathing hard and shaking under Len's now rapid thrusts inside his body. The pressure inside him increased slightly as Len's cock swelled. Len cried out, grunted and stilled as he came, panting through the pleasure as his cock pulsed, sending waves of hot wet cum into Barry’s ass. He milked Barry’s orgasm right along with his, thrusting a few more times into his lover while he slowed his strokes of Barry’s cock until he was dry and softening in his hands.  
  
Len pulled out and then collapsed onto the floor beside Barry. For a long while, the two men rested there, clasped close by Len’s arms, panting as they both came down from their post-climax high. After a time, Len slowly eased his embrace, and he twisted himself up to bend close over his companion. He gazed down at Barry for a long moment, saying nothing, just looking lovingly, running his deep gaze over the other man.  
Barry just stared up at him for a moment before wrapping his arms around Len’s neck and pulled him down till he was almost lying on top of him, kissing him softly.  
  
“Geeze, why were we playing cops and robbers when we could have been doing this the whole time,” Barry said around a sigh. Len just chuckled softly, shifting to lay beside Barry, laying soft kisses along his neck. Nothing else was said as they both drifted off, a tangle of legs and arms, as they fell asleep together on the wood floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "I Like the Way" by Darren Hayes


	6. So Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have lost my illusions, I have drowned in your words  
>  I have left my confusion to a cynical world  
>  I am throwing myself at things I don’t understand  
>  Discover enlightenment holding your hand  
>  You are so beautiful  
>  Darling, you know that you make me feel so beautiful  
>  Nothing else in the world I wanna be"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amongst the fluff and heart to hearts lives some smut and light bondage

Barry moved quietly down the hall, bare feet making soft noises as they padded against the hardwood floor, steps deliberate as he made his way through the apartment. It was three a.m. and Barry awoke desperate for a late night/early morning snack. He had burned a lot of energy just a few hours before, waking up after only two hours of rest, praying the man laying next to him hadn’t heard his stomach growl.

Luckily Len didn’t even stir as Barry slowly and carefully removed himself from where he had been sleeping against Len’s side, easing the arm that had been wrapped around him and holding him close to drape across Len’s own torso. Grabbing a pair of plaid boxers from the floor, he pulled them on before carefully exiting the bedroom.

He moved around the spacious kitchen with an ease of familiarity; knowing which drawer the cutlery was in without giving it a second thought, gathering the bread from the third cupboard from the left with muscle memory rather than actual memory. He hardly spent more than a glance in the fridge as he gathered everything he needed to make the giant sandwich he craved because now Len had started keeping a fully stocked fridge for the speedster’s metabolic needs. 

It had been two months now since the night they stumbled into Len’s apartment after their first date. Barry had barely gotten a look at how nice of a living space it was that night, what with being distracted by being slammed against a wall with arousing force, lips practically attached to Len’s. It was a spacious one-bedroom apartment with living, dining, and kitchen areas in Petersburg, a trendy downtown residential area, not a part of the city that Barry would have expected Len to live. 

“What do you think, Scarlet, I spend all my time in run-down safe houses?” Len had scoffed as Barry had explored the apartment when Len had invited him over a few days after they had had their first date.

Everything was chrome and modern, chic and elegant, sexy, and simple, just like the owner. It was decorated minimally with fine art, probably stolen originals but Barry knew better than to ask. The master bedroom featured a walk-in wardrobe and ensuite bathroom with a frameless shower big enough for two as Barry learned the morning after their first encounter. The large living area divided into a seating area with a comfy plush gray sectional which they had debauched that first time, a dining nook which Len utilized as an office space instead with a sleek glass desk that Barry had pinned him against as he went down on Len on their third date, and a kitchenette with gorgeous dark modern cabinets and marble counters that Len had sat him up on as they made out like teenagers on the date they lost count of weeks later, burning the dinner they had been trying to cook as they got lost in each other. 

But as Barry prepared his sandwich now, the bread crisping up in the toaster, he found himself eager to go back to bed. Although they had been spending so much time together, Barry coming over after work, between hero duties, and staying late into the night, this was his first time actually staying more than two nights in a row. Of the two months they’d been seeing each other, Barry could count on one hand the days they went without spending any time together, either hanging out or meeting up for a quickie or a meal between leaving work and going to S.T.A.R. Labs. 

It wasn’t all sex though, all though it did tend to lead to that more often than not. The first night Barry had been in the apartment, and the morning after, they didn’t do much other than physically exploring every inch of each other. The second time he came over, however, Len had invited him just to hang out. Barry hadn’t been sure what to expect what a casual night in could be like with the other man but he relished in how simple and comfortable it actually was. Len had shown him around and they spent the night just talking and relaxing. They’d popped popcorn and stretched out across the couch, Barry propped up on the chaise while Len lay across the sectional, head in Barry’s lap as Barry trolled through Len’s saved list on Netflix. It was documentaries mostly but then he found every iteration of the Star Trek franchise. Clicking through them and seeing the checkmark indicating he’d watched them all, Barry couldn’t help but smile. 

“Oh my god you’re a closet geek,” Barry had laughed. He knew the man was smart, clever, stupid good at math with a quick brain figuring out scenarios in seconds, but a geek as well, that came as a surprise. Len hadn’t even flinched, uncaring of the pseudo insult before grabbing the remote from Barry’s hand, ignoring him completely and selecting the original ‘Ocean’s 11’ with the Rat Pack.

“Nothing compares to the original,” Len had said, not hiding his enjoyment at the eye roll Barry had responded with. Barry knew Len was teasing him, having told him less than an hour ago the story of his Nazis-interrupted wedding that led them to Earth-X where they met Len’s doppelgänger. Len was unimpressed with how kind and how helpful Barry had told him Leo had been, rolling his eyes as he told him he even hugged him goodbye. Len had replied with pushing Barry against the fridge and kissing him hard, a kiss that made it feel like Barry’s face disappeared. 

“I bet your Leo didn’t do that,” Len nipped at his lips, grabbing the popcorn when he pulled away and headed towards the living room.

“Well, Ray may have had something to say about it if he did,” Barry mumbled when remembered how to use his mouth again, following after Len.

They watched the movie, Barry never having seen the original, revealing he’d only seen musicals with Frank Sinatra, told him of the nights he’d spent watching old movie musicals with his mom when he was young. Len sat up then and asked Barry about his mother.

“I mean I know what happened,” Len had said, moving to sit with one leg folded under him as he turned to face Barry, leaning an elbow up on the back of the couch and propping his head up with his fist. “But I want to hear about her from you if you don’t mind.”

Barry told him of what happened that night, of what he heard and saw. But then Len asked him to talk about his mother without talking about her death and it had taken Barry off guard, not many people asking him about what he remembered about her other than the tragic loss. He talked about life with his parents, about how beautiful his mother was inside and out, and things that reminded him of her as he tried to keep his memories of her alive.

“My mom studied art history. She was an amazing painter. What I’d give to have just one of her paintings,” Barry shared, wiping a tear from right below his eye before it could travel down his face. “I mean I have some sketches she did for me that were tucked away in some of my books but now, I wish I could have just one of her paintings.“

“What happened to them?” Len asked, lifting a hand to Barry’s face, letting it rest upon his cheek, his thumb gliding gently at the corner of his lips, catching another stray tear with the pad of his thumb. Barry smiled at him sadly. 

“When Joe gathered stuff from the house for me after he took me in, I was just a kid and didn’t think about it. And he had no idea about the paintings otherwise I know he would have taken one for me. Some stuff went into storage like stuff from my dad’s office. Joe grabbed most of my belongings, some photo albums, clothes, books, my telescope, my mom’s treasure box that had some jewelry, the key to my mom and dad’s first place together, stuff like that. But everything else was sold at the estate sale when they sold our house,” Barry sniffed, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “My entire home sold off in pieces. I guess her paintings were part of it. I tried to track them down a few times but it was a long time ago and they don’t exactly keep great records of junk left behind by a man who murdered his wife.”

“You look like her,” Len said as he looked at the photo in Barry’s wallet, an age-worn family photo of Henry and Nora with a young Barry who couldn’t be older than five on the front porch of a lovely home. “Beautiful.”

Barry’s eyes had shone immediately with unshed tears before looking away from Len, staring at the photo before sliding it back into his wallet. 

“I’m sorry, was that not okay?” Len asked, resting his hand on Barry’s knee. “I know some men don’t like to be called that.”

“No, it’s not that,” Barry quickly replied, wiping at the tears before turning towards Len. 

“Wait, were you serious about worrying about being too scrawny? Do you not know how gorgeous you are?” Len moved the hand from the knee to grip the one in Barry’s lap. Suddenly the notion of the nearly flawless human, someone so quick to help and so eager to serve, being put down and told he wasn’t enough like Len had his whole life, he could feel the anger swell within him. 

“No, I mean,” Barry swallowed, gripping the hand in his as he inched closer to him on the couch. “I’ve been called handsome, cute, stuff like that. But my mom, she always called me her beautiful boy and no one’s said that to me since.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Len said sincerely, his thumb gliding across the top of the hand in his. Barry smiled up at him through teary eyes, raising his other hand to lay against the side of Len’s neck, his own thumb tracing the strong jawline.

“You didn’t. It was nice,” Barry reassured, leaning in to kiss the man who was constantly proving to him now over and over what he’d always known to be true; that inside Len, behind the cold and anger, was goodness and kindness. 

Barry wasn’t sure why he had been so quick to open up to Leonard Snart but he did take comfort in the fact that it was reciprocated. And to Barry’s surprise, the infamously cold villain was actually quite warm when it came to Barry. He didn’t shy away from touch like Barry thought he might be given his history, he wasn’t scarce with his affection like he had been with his true motives in the past. 

On a night where the city was quiet, two weeks after their first date, Barry and Len had drunk wine on the balcony of the apartment overlooking the skyline. Len had told Barry about his own childhood, his mom walking out on him and his dad when Len discussed with him how he’d closed himself off, growing up in an abusive home, not wanting his father to see anything about who he was, to never stay in anything too long.

“It takes a lot for me to open up. I’d say other than Mick and Lisa, the only other person I let see any part of me that wasn’t carefully crafted was Sara and that's only because we were freezing to death,” Len had shared as they sat out on the balcony off the main living space, watching the sunset as they sipped on wine. It was very romantic and domestic in its simplicity, just two men who lived extraordinary lives enjoying a quiet moment of normalcy. “When I try, it usually comes out sarcastic or not enough to really mean anything. Part of is it has been on purpose and some old habits. But with you, I’d like to try. Even if I don’t say enough, I want whatever I do say to be the truth.”

“That means a lot to me, I hope you know that,” Barry’s eyes were soft, nursing the wine glass between his hands as he watched Len intently while he spoke. Barry would have been lying if he said honesty was a concern initially but he’d been so open with his intentions in that booth when Len asked him out, reinforced on their date when Len didn’t hesitate to discuss anything Barry brought up. Barry was definitely the chatty of the two, not as much as open book but a cup of tea spilling over. But Len let him, listened, and contributed in a way that showed Barry just how interested he was, not just in what he said, but the way Len looked at him. “I’m honored to be in that elite group. And I’m glad you had Sara with you, she’s pretty badass.’

“She is that,” Len chuckled fondly, talking a finishing swig of the Bordeaux in his glass. “Ya know, first chance I got when we went off on the mission with Rip I went and stole a priceless emerald.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me,” Barry had smirked.

“I did it so that my father wouldn’t get arrested,” Len replied, pouring himself another cup and topping off Barry’s. “It was the reason he went to jail, the reason he was worse than he was before. It didn’t take. Got caught trying to fence it in the new timeline, still went to prison for five years, still made our lives hell.”

“I know what it’s like to go back, to try to make your life better,” Barry nodded, reaching a hand out to rest upon Len’s shoulder. “When I went back and saved my mom. But sometimes when we try to make things better, life still happens. All we can do is try to move forward.”

Len had said nothing in response, just smiling softly at Barry and leaning in for a quick and light kiss. 

“What made you go off with Rip, to begin with?” Barry finally asked the question that had been on his mind for years. “Couldn’t just have been to steal stuff from the past.”

“Since I was young I’ve challenged myself. First, it was to be intelligent like my grandfather. Then it was to be better than my father, a better role model to Lisa, then a better thief,” Len said, standing up from the chair to lean against the balcony looking out across the skyline. “I wanted to be the Snart they remembered instead of the dirty cop who always got caught. And for a while, that was enough. Then this little shit in red leather-“

“It’s not leather” the voice interrupted from behind him.

“This little shit in red not-leather,” Len continued, “made me step up my game, challenged the way I’d conducted my business. But that challenge felt more like a threat, threatened my way of life and my skills. That was why I felt like I needed to take the Flash out. But then that shifted my perspective and I knew I’d met my match, unlike the cops or the feds. Even though he was reckless and approached every battle without a solid plan, just begging to get his stupid, yet hot, hero ass killed.” 

Len smiled slightly at the disgruntled snort behind him, ignored it without acknowledging it, and continued.

“And then I met Barry Allen, the man behind the mask, and you challenged me in a different way. First with how I approached the game. Then I needed to prove that I could still win.”

“Thus Ferris Air,” Len heard the voice interrupt again as he felt the warm, familiar body slide up behind him, strong arms curled around his waist. Barry pressed a kiss to the side of Len’s neck before pressing closer against him, resting his chin on Len’s shoulder. Len couldn’t help but lean his head back and sink into Barry’s embrace as they watched the colors of the sun that started to fade from hues of orange and pink to dark blue and purple.

“Among other reasons,” Len replied. “But that was the Flash that came to me to help with Ferris Air. Barry Allen was the kid I met in the forest. Barry Allen was the kid that helped me save my sister, the kid that kept visiting me in prison, challenging me to be more. Barry Allen was the one that inspired me to join the Legends, to be more than someone who lied, who robbed, who hurt people. I realized I didn’t want to just be a better criminal than my father. I wanted to be a better man.”

“You are,” Barry acknowledged immediately. And then Len felt his arms tighten around him and heard a slight hitch in Barry’s breath. “You don’t have to prove anything. Please don’t leave again like that.”

Len heard the unspoken words between the vocalized ones. The assurance that in Barry’s eyes Len had nothing to prove to him about being a good man, the plea to not leave with the Legends again without saying goodbye, to not go where Barry couldn’t follow, to sacrifice himself again.

And then the wine was forgotten, the beautiful skyline view ignored as they made love on the balcony, wonderful and tender. Often it was intimate and sensual, and then sometimes it wasn’t; sometimes it was messy and rough, tumultuous, and steamy. 

Like the time about a month ago the Flash had been patrolling Central City when a jewelry store alarm had been triggered. Rushing to the scene revealed no damage, nothing apparently stolen, just the door slightly ajar. He had moved to scope out the alley for a getaway when suddenly one of the shadows erupted, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him against the alley wall. 

Barry let out a grunt of pain as he was pushed back against the brick. He kicked out at his attacker but it was quickly blocked. He was pushed back against the wall again, the force of the push knocking him off balance. His attacker’s full force slammed into him, pressing his back against the brick, knocking the breath out of him. His attacker wasted no time in grabbing the disoriented man’s wrists, forcing them up on either side of Barry’s head, pinning them hard against the wall. Barry struggled, writhing and trying to break free of the grasp and the pressure pushing him into the wall, tugging on the vice-like grip. It was no use.

“Get off me,” Barry growled, staring through his mask up at the man who had, just moments ago, attacked him. Len was in full Captain Cold gear, parka and all, goggles blocking the eyes Barry had become more accustomed to looking into versus the reflective blue lenses, cold gun strapped to his thighs. He could easily get away, could phase through the hold, and take Len out in a second. But curiosity won out and he pretended that Len had the upper hand. 

“Come on,” his attacker impishly smiled, leaning in close. “Don’t you heroes case your environment? How did you miss me in the shadows?”

“Yeah well, ” Barry sneered back playfully. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be attacked since you told me you had plans tonight. I can’t believe you broke into a store just to initiate some playtime.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I used this method to flirt with you. The only difference is this time you’re not as oblivious,” As he spoke, Barry felt the grip at his wrists tighten as Len moved till his broad body was so close to him, holding him tightly in place against the wall, leaning in close till he was just a few inches from Barry’s face. “And this time, it’s going to end the way I always imagined it would.”

He adjusted his grip so he was pinning Barry’s wrists together with just one of his hands. The other grabbed Barry by the chin, forcing his head back against the wall, leaning in just close enough till he was hovering. He held his face right there, his goggle covered eyes staring into the green eyes of Barry’s beneath the cowl. He slowly moved his hand down Barry’s neck, over the lightning bolt emblem across his chest.

“I like the new suit but I must confess, I miss the leather-“

“It wasn’t leather, it was a friction proof try-polym-mmm” Barry’s correction was stifled by Len’s lips claiming his. The kiss was slow, teasing, almost enough to distract Barry from where they were doing what they’re doing, dressed as they are. He let his eyes close as Len sucked on his lower lip, sighing, and then Len pulled away.

“I’m going to ignore the use of the word ‘friction’ as well as the fact that you’re correcting me right now while I’m trying to have my way with you.” Barry giggled at the remark from Len but was quickly turned into a moan as Len’s knee nudged against his groin. 

“What I was saying was as much as I miss the leather fetish-wear, I am quite a fan of how your new suit fits so snuggly, clinging to your muscles, that tight ass, leaving nothing to the imagination,” Len drawled, voice low, lifting his goggles to rest atop his head revealing a darkly excited expression in his eyes. “And trust me, Flash, I have quite the imagination.”

Barry was breathing heavily at the slow, sensuous touch of Len as he held him against the wall and stared into his eyes, his hand exploring with every lust filled word. Tracing down his stomach, fingers grazing over his tight abs through the skin-tight suit, eliciting a gasp from the younger man when Len’s hand moved to the hidden seam beneath his belt and slipped up underneath the top of his uniform. 

“Len, this is hardly the place,” Barry whispered breathlessly, despite his halfhearted words of protest, his eyes and body dared the older man to make his move already.

“Nuh uh, Flash,” Len clicked disapproving with his tongue as he brought his hand up to cup the side of Barry’s neck, his other hand still restraining his wrists, faces centimeters apart. “Who am I tonight?”

The breath was hot on his lips despite the moniker of the man who was sending chills down Barry’s spine. He could easily get out Len’s grip, could end this right away if he’d wanted. But that wasn’t he wanted, far from it. 

“Please,” Barry whispered, begging for what he really wanted, “Captain Cold.”

Len barely let him finish the name before he dipped his head down to slam his lips against Barry’s. Len’s mouth enveloped his, tongue flicking almost violently against Barry’s as they kissed hard. Barry arched up against the wall, grinding against Len’s body, his teeth nipping at the older man’s lips. Still holding his wrists with one hand, Len’s other hand moved from Barry’s neck, down his chest and stomach to trace lower, slipping under the front of his pants to rub against his growing cock. First, his leather-covered fingers glided, then squeezed.

Barry’s head rocked back, pulling away from the kiss, his breath came short as Len’s adept hand massaged his cock. He felt the hand trace around the sensitive head, teasing before moving directly onto the base, rapidly stimulating and tugging. Barry’s breaths grew shorter and his body tightened as his body neared that peak and then...Len pulled his hand away.

Barry’s mind came crashing back to his desperate body.

“You assho-mmmph!” Len clamped the glove covered hand over Barry’s mouth, pressing his body up against Barry’s. Len rocked his hips, his own bulge rubbing against Barry’s thigh as he leaned in closer. Barry tried to protest beneath the hand, his breath catching in his throat as his need became painful. 

“I was gonna let you finish your patrol and then fuck you later,” Len whispered. Barry tried to turn his head away at the hot breath against the patches of exposed skin from the cowl that caused shivers of lust through his body, harsh breaths coming from his nose, but the hand over his mouth held him in place, “but here’s as good a place as any.”

With a tug on the wrists he had captured, Len yanked him away from the wall, spun the Flash around only to yank his arms behind him, and lock a pair of handcuffs around his wrists.

“Hey-mmph!” Len clamped a hand over Barry’s mouth again, pulling his head back against Len’s shoulder, and used his body to push him up forward against the wall. Barry began to halfheartedly struggle and twist in his assailant’s grip until he felt the well-known, glove covered hand snake across his waist and slowly slide inside the waistband of his uniform, a soft chuckle of hot breath whispered in his ear.

“Relax,” Len encouraged, laying a gentle kiss on the nape of Barry’s cowl covered neck. And then suddenly the game was paused, Len sincere in a quick request for Barry’s permission. “Is this okay?”

Barry thought for a moment. These were regular cuffs, not meta cuffs. This was nothing more than what they did at home, except out in the open, dressed in their uniforms, it added an air of risk and danger that spread almost as much heat through him as the sheer arousal of Len’s confident bravado did. This was a fantasy he knew they both have had for a long time, even before they became a thing. Like Len said, here was as good a place as any. 

Closing his eyes, Barry nodded.

“Good,” was all Len said and the game resumed. With one hand still clamped over his mouth, his lover deftly yanked the tight red pants and his briefs one-handed down beneath his ass. Barry then heard the zip of a fly being undone and within seconds he felt the tip of Len’s dick at his ass hole.

“Mnnnmmmmm,” Barry squeezed his eyes shut and gasped through his nose as the head of the cock pushed its way into his exposed ass. His body trembled as Len’s cock slowly, dry and so slowly, was pressed into him farther, pausing and pressing, and pausing as Barry pressed back. Barry felt Len’s lips curve in a smile against his neck as he kissed and bit as his exposed jaw. 

As Len ran his hand up and down the restrained man’s cock, the leather of the glove creating a sensational feeling, Barry moaned while Len’s cock slowly pushed it’s way in. Len kept slowly pushing in until finally, he stopped, just staying like that, a hand clamped firmly over Barry’s mouth, the other around his penis, and his own buried inside of him. Barry panted through his nose as his lover dragged his cock out of his ass only to slam back in.

“Mmm!” Barry moaned beneath the hand. Len paused again, letting it rest in his ass. Barry blinked rapidly, short moans of pain and pleasure making its way from behind the hand. It took all of Barry’s focus to avoid vibrating, not wanting to free himself from the cuffs or of the hold Len had on him.

“Shhhhh,” Len whispered against his neck as he pulled back and entered him again and continued to gain speed as he thrust in and out, forcing Barry up against the wall with each roll of his hips.

Barry’s muffled moans grew louder, his body arching within his lover’s arms as Len plunged into Barry’s ass harder and faster, pumping his cock in time with his thrusts. Len wasn’t sure who came first, the edges fuzzy. But Len felt Barry’s cock jump in his hand, heard his lover moan beneath his glove, and his muscles clenched around Len’s cock and that’s all it took before he was arching his back and biting his lip to keep himself from yelling.

He milked Barry’s orgasm right along with his, thrusting a few more times into his lover while he slowed his strokes of Barry’s cock until he was milked dry and softening in his hand. They stayed like that for a few moments before Len pulled out, tucking himself back in and pulling his hand away from Barry’s mouth. 

Barry stayed collapsed against the wall, head leaning forward against the brick as gentle hands pulled up his pants over his hips and then released the cuffs. Len gently spun Barry to face him, lifting both of Barry’s arms up to lay a kiss on each glove covered wrist where the cuffs had been. He then kissed him gently on the lips before Barry flashed them back to the apartment, the barely broken-in jewelry store forgotten as their uniforms were left abandoned on the bedroom floor where it became Barry’s turn to use the cuffs. 

But it was the moments in between sex, where they could share the deep stuff or not, where they could reveal a piece of themself or simply just enjoy the quiet. It was where they talked for hours or sat together in comfortable peace that made this so much more meaningful then either man could have expected. It was the way they cooked together in the kitchen and they would share about how Len had to learn in order to feed his sister growing up or how Barry took lessons from Joe and sped read cookbooks so he could keep up with his metabolism. And sometimes it was the way they cooked in the kitchen and just worked together to make a nice meal for themselves and then argued about who’s turn it was to do the dishes. It was the nights Barry would stay over, coming back to the apartment after stopping a robbery in the middle of the night and crawling back into bed with Len, who would stir awake just enough to pull him close and press his forehead to his before they both drifted off. And sometimes it was a night uninterrupted for the Flash where Len would reach with one hand for the remote to turn up the ceiling fan because the snoring body sprawled on top of his was generating so much heat he couldn’t stay asleep. It was quiet nights in, no romantic dinner or lust laden activities, just chatting about whatever came up or frivolous arguments while watching movies. And it was the moments where something became more, when laughter turned to lust, when a kiss turned into making love, when an argument became an understanding, a comment became a confession. It was the epitome of transformation, like their dynamic, their relationship. 

“Jedi is the perfect movie,” Barry had sprung up from where he had been laying back horizontally on the couch, legs draped over Len’s who had been rubbing his feet. That in itself was a sweet gesture, but Barry couldn’t explain what it meant to a runner. He lived on his feet, so for someone to take the time and thought to grab them and pay them specific attention, it made Barry feel special. 

“I’m not saying it’s not great,” Len didn’t look up from his task, about to defend his stance as ‘A New Hope’ still played on the TV screen in front of them as they idly chatted during the movie they’d each seen a hundred times separately. It was the middle of a Sunday afternoon after waking up together just a week or so ago, each man dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, with no plans but to see where the day went. “All I’m saying is of the three, I prefer New Hope over Jedi and that Empire is the superior of the franchise.”

“Empire’s the best for sure but Jedi has-ohhh, mmmm,” Barry’s argument was lost when a moan sent him sprawling backward on the couch as Len’s thumbs kneaded just the right spot in the arch of his right foot. 

“You were saying?” Len teased, giving the feet one more squeeze before he maneuvered himself fully across the cushions, stretching over Barry before encouraging the speedster to turn on his side. Barry complied as Len slid behind him, pressed between the slim body and couch-back as his head fell against the pillow, sharing it with the man as his left arm slid beneath Barry’s shoulder and the cushions and the right around his waist. 

“Don’t think just because you can reduce me to a puddle with your hands means I’m going to suddenly agree with you,” Barry said as he shifted till he was flush back against Len’s body, bringing his own hands up to grip affectionately at the arms wrapped around him. “Han is a total badass in Empire. Very sexy.”

“I always found Luke more interesting myself,” Len responded, kissing the side of Barry’s neck between words. “Who doesn’t like a novice hero who is completely unqualified yet somehow ends up being the inspiration everyone needed? Put him in red and it could be your bio-pic.”

“Ha ha,” Barry pinched the arm beneath him. “Han has the best character development though. Plus, he was totally my sexual awakening. Bad boy, reluctant hero, swagger-“

“Well that explains a lot,” Len laughed as he moved his lips up Barry’s neck, cursing the healing factor that prevented any of Len’s marks lasting more than twenty minutes. Didn’t stop him from trying though. Barry ignored the interruption and continued. 

“And that line where Leia tells him she loves him and he responds with ‘I know’,” Barry sighed. “Iconic.”

“Sexual awakening huh?” Len asked, smiling to himself as he found the particular sensitive spot right behind Barry’s right ear on his neck, causing the man in his arms to gasp as he vibrated suddenly and briefly. Since Len discovered that spot it was his favorite trick and would occasionally attack it at random. Being able to cause that kind of reaction in a person was addicting. And he particularly enjoyed it when Barry would blush suddenly at the response when it caught him by surprise. 

“Jerk,” Barry replied with no heat, pulling the arms around him closer, contradicting his dismay. “I was fourteen I think, watching Star Wars for the millionth time and then all of a sudden Han Solo comes on screen and boom, I realized I liked guys too. God, it was so embarrassing.”

“Han shot first and you got hard?” Len teased, a playful elbow to his ribs the response. “Seriously though is that how you realized you were into men also?”

“It was the start of a long self-evaluation,” Barry said, fingers delicately tracing the forearm wrapped around his waist. Len couldn’t see Barry’s face from where he was laying behind him, but he could just picture the melancholy smile on his face from the tone of his voice. “I went to Iris in tears, I was so confused. But she helped me figure it out, what I was feeling, what it meant, helped me get to that place where I could recognize myself as bisexual. She even helped me come out to Joe.”

“How’d that go?” Len asked, halting in feather-light kisses to let Barry know he was genuinely listening. 

“Coming out as bi was a lot easier than coming out as the Streak, if you can believe it,” Barry chuckled and Len couldn’t help but smile. Knowing Barry didn’t struggle with the people that loved him gave Len comfort. It was a defining aspect of Barry’s life, the love and support of his family, and Len wasn’t sure why, but it brought him comfort to know someone he cared about didn’t have the same kind of pain growing up that he did. Barry’s childhood hadn’t been easy, just like Len’s, but Barry had people to hold him up, who showed up for him when he’d already lost so much, and it made him who he was today. Hearing a reminder that reinforced that idea for whatever reason gave Len the feeling of contentment. 

“What about you?” Barry asked suddenly, interrupting Len’s musings. “When did you come out as-” Barry paused, turning in Len’s arms just enough to look up at him awkwardly over his shoulder, “wait, how do you identify?” 

“I don’t,” Len sighed, thinking about his next words. “I never came out as anything. I refused to allow Lewis to know anything about my life. Besides, he was too busy being a garbage criminal and father to pay any attention. Lisa and Mick, I never said anything to either of them but they’d seen me with both men and women. Call it what you want, gay, bi, omnisexual, pansexual, I see what I want and I go after it. I’m not really into labels.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Barry teased, leaning up for a chaste kiss on the lips over his shoulder before settling back to watch the movie, snuggling deeper into Len’s arms. Len resumed peppering Barry’s neck and jaw with slow sensual kisses, only stopping when he noticed Barry’s body was tense now, Len suspecting it was from Barry’s anxiousness at trying not to pry, to not ask for further explanation when he really wanted to know more.

“Labels are ties, Scarlet, and I’ve never belonged to anyone, never wanted to before,” he explained, resting his chin against Barry’s shoulder. “People always say stuff like ‘be mine’ or ‘forever’ and it honestly freaks me out. That’s what it’s like to be trapped, to be owned, to have no control and I can’t do that. There are no strings on me. I won’t be that or do that to someone.”

“I totally get that, honestly. I guess I’ve just never seen it that way,” Barry replied, his thumbs gliding back and forth across Len’s arms. “All I’ve wanted my whole life was to belong. What you call strings, yes they can bind you, but to me, it’s like a tether. When I lost my mom it was like the tether attaching me to her just got cut and she was gone. When they locked my dad up I still felt connected to him but it was strained. And then Joe took me in and I felt grounded again, like I wasn’t going to float away or disappear, be forgotten or left behind. He’s not my blood, but he’s my Dad, ya know? It’s an important label for me, even though it took us a long time to get there.”  
Len marveled at Barry’s willingness to be vulnerable. He knew it came from growing up with parents who made it feel safe to come to them with a skinned knee or hurt feelings from a bully and then reinforced by a man who wasn’t his father but made him feel loved and safe after his world was shattered and heart was broken. Len couldn’t relate, and if he was being honest, didn’t know if he could live the way Barry did. So open, so trusting, so raw all the time. But here he was anyway, sinking deeper into the phenomenon that was Barry Allen that had him questioning everything he thought he knew.

“As long as the ties that bind us together are stronger than those that would tear us apart, all will be well,” Len quoted in reply. It wasn’t quite an admission that maybe Barry was right, but more of a compromise to be optimistic and open to the notion of what Barry was proposing. It must have been understood because in response Len felt Barry kiss his forearm briefly. 

“Do you feel that way about all labels?” The timid voice said out of nowhere after a few moments of silence. The question unasked hung in the air between them and Len hesitated on how exactly to answer. 

“Not all labels. I don’t mind the label Legend for me or Hero for you,” Len finally replied, voice quiet as his lips hovered over Barry’s ear, allowing a pregnant pause before continuing. “Or partner for you and me.”

He felt the shiver run through the body wrapped in his arms, felt the warm blush spread the neck against his lips.

“Partner, huh?” Barry inquired, his hands pulling the arms tighter around him. “You call Mick your partner though. What about boyfriend?” 

“What are we, teenagers?” Len laughed quietly at the little giggle he got in response. “God, you’re an adorable, hopeless nerd.”

“Oh please, you love that about me and you know it.” 

As soon as the words left Barry’s lips, his body went rigid, sudden fear rushing through him as he realized what he had just implied.

“I know,” Len replied softly, laying a soft kiss on the shoulder, feeling the man relax in his arms again as they held each other close and continued their Star Wars marathon with breaks for eating, conversations over dialogue, and an impromptu make-out session when a misty-eyed speedster turned towards him and kissed him long and hard during a particular seen in Empire where the bad boy sacrifices himself for his friends. 

Many would assume that Len was not an overly affectionate man but the truth was he was always initiating contact, any excuse to touch Barry, examining him like a precious gem, wanting him to feel admired and desired because as far as Len was concerned, that’s what you were supposed to do when you cared about someone. And even more, he let Barry do the same, he let him touch and ask questions and hold him. There was nothing off limits between them and Barry wondered if it was because they had already pushed the boundaries in their past, what with violence and betrayal being how they were introduced and moving past that left them with the worst behind them. 

And now, as Barry worked his way through his snack, leaning back as he enjoyed the perfect sandwich, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how they got to where they were right now, musing at the idea of standing in his boxers in the early morning hours in the apartment of Leonard Snart.

He wasn’t sure why it was so easy to be open around each other, why being together felt effortless. But Barry felt free in a way he’d only ever felt before when he ran at super speed. And he felt safe in a way his friends would laugh and probably shout at him for, considering the gun that could stop him instantly rest just yards away from where he slept in the arms of the man that wielded it. 

But Barry didn’t often think of how their lives should be a thing that divided them, the differences between them weren’t opposing forces. The Flash and Captain Cold weren’t who they were, it was just a part of Barry and Len. It was a part of their history together. And what they didn’t know about each other, they really liked getting to know about it. Barry loved learning about Len, about how he was actually really good at school before he dropped out, his passion for art and math. Barry learned Len liked to experiment; with style when he found a kilt or two in his wardrobe, with flavors when he cooked Tai just as well as he cooked Italian, with art when he discovered some canvases and charcoals in the back of the closet. Len always shrugged them off when Barry would ask him to expand on his newly learned tidbit like it wasn’t that interesting. But Len on the other hand always treated each thing he learned about Barry like it was some wonderful discovery.

Like when he’d caught Barry singing ‘Darling You Send Me’ in the shower one morning before joining him. They’d showered together a few times already, although each time it usually ending up in sex, only not once or twice. As much as Barry enjoyed sex with Len, Barry had a dissertation at the CCPD in an hour and he and Len had a tendency to get, well, distracted, so he was hoping they would be able to control themselves.

“Sam Cooke?” Len questioned as he stepped inside, the steam disappearing just enough as the glass door opened for Barry see the broad shoulders, tanned skin, steel eyes vibrant even though he’d just woken up.

“Sorry, did my singing wake you?” Barry winced, Barry couldn’t help but blush slightly as Len’s naked body pressed against his back, reaching across Barry’s body to turn the water temperature down slightly. 

“No, the sudden loss of inferno fire on top of me woke me,” Len teased, kissing the side of Barry’s neck as the man joined him under the spray. He knew Barry could sing, he’d caught him a few times when he didn’t think Len was listening and Len wondered what other hidden talents the man had. But right now, he had one discovery he had to focus on. “So, Sam Cooke?’

“You don’t like? Cuz I take requests,” Barry turned to face Len and wound his arms around his waist, pulling him close, water cascading around them.

“I’m just surprised you do. I didn’t take you for a jazz type, more top 40,” Len teased before kissing him deeply. 

“I like a lot of different music. I mean Lady Gaga seems to be the thing that pulls me out of a coma every time,” Barry giggled as Len raised an eyebrow, knowing that Len had just logged that little confession as an inquiry for later. “But I was raised by Joe West, the duke of soul, so I grew up on Jazz.” 

“Well, you do have great taste. Don’t stop singing on my account,” Len reached around him without pulling away to get a pump of shower gel. Barry laughed, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose, kissing him again before he continued singing where he left off.

Len lathered up his hands and began massaging Barry’s muscled back, covering it with soap. As Barry sang softly, Len moved his hands across Barry’s front, arms and hips before moving to his own chest. Barry’s singing trailed off as he watched Len travel his hands down across his own pecs, stomach, and low down his hips, the soap suds running down Len’s legs.

Damnit, Barry cursed before lunging forward to pull at Len’s hands, tugging him directly under the water stream with him and wrap his arms around the lathered body, lips crushing against Len’s. Barry was late for the dissertation that morning which wasn’t so shocking, considering he was usually late anyway, but the score for sex versus no sex in the shower tipped further in the favor of the former. 

Much like everything else in Barry’s life, the universe had a way of shocking the hell out of him in the best and worst ways. He just prayed this ended up being one of those good times. He didn’t know what this was between them or if it would go anywhere past this, but two months in and he planned on enjoying it for as long as it lasted. 

And he realized he wanted it to last. The Sunday afternoon they spent watching Star Wars had been the first time they spoke about love but not the last, even though they’d never said the words to each other. In fact just last night over dinner and wine the conversation somehow found its way to the topic.

“Unconditional love,” Barry had said in response to something Len had commented about from a plot point in a book he had been reading earlier. 

“That doesn’t exist,” Len scoffed, taking a sip of wine before noticing the earnest look on his lover’s face. “You really believe that it does?” 

“I don’t just believe it, I’ve experienced it,” Barry replied, standing from the table to gather the dishes as he cleaned up. 

“From who?” Len followed, gathering what little remained of the two trays of pasta carbonara they had prepared together. Len had had two helpings where Barry had eaten a tray and a half, the few servings that remained would be eaten randomly tomorrow when Barry was looking for a mid-day snack. The preparation of meals and knowing what would become of the leftovers for the always hungry speedster became routine to Len, a routine he enjoyed. 

“My parents, all three of them. The way my mother held me, spoke to me as if I created the stars or something. She’d call me her beautiful boy and told me she truly came alive the day I came into her world. It made knowing I was the reason she died all that much harder,” Barry spoke while he washed the dishes, Len leaning against the counter next to him, enraptured in his words as he sipped on his wine.

“And my dad, things weren’t perfect between us but the man lost his reputation, his freedom, spent seventeen years in prison for something he didn’t do, and every Saturday for two hours it was as if none of that mattered. Whatever pain he was going through, my life, my problems, my stories took precedent.”

Barry wiped his hands off on the nearby dish towel and then hopped up to sit on the counter, a fond smile on his face as he reached for Len’s glass of wine from his hand, taking a sip before giving it back. Len rolled his eyes as he drank from the returned glass. This was another habit they’d somehow developed, Len sharing his drinks unwillingly. Barry would drink from his coffee cup, wine glass, steal from his plate and Len allowed him because he found the idea that the Flash was a food thief kind of ironic and adorable. It’s like once you gave Barry Allen permission to come into your world, he came in all the way, no holds barred. And Len found himself shocked that he was fond of it after spending a lifetime of keeping people at arm's length. 

“And then there’s Joe. You want to know what unconditional love is? It’s taking in a kid, going through all the growing pains of raising a child, plus trauma and heartache and anger, running away, sleepless nights because of nightmares, therapy, and theories. And knowing you don't have to endure any of this because this damaged kid isn’t even your blood but doing it anyway and making sure that child knows he’s safe and wanted and special...that’s unconditional love. It’s how I was raised. It’s the only kind of love I’ve ever known. It’s all I know how to give.”

Len pushed away from the counter and moved to stand in front of Barry, between the legs draped over the counter and placed his hands on Barry’s hips.

“You’re a culmination of all of them, you know. Your father, a man of science who chose to use his brilliance to help people. Your mother, someone who saw the world through an artist’s lens of beauty and light. And your adoptive dad, dedicating his life to serve and protect. You’re all of that in one unique, gorgeous, green-eyed package.” Len leaned in, peppering kisses along Barry’s neck between his next few words. “Brilliant. Kind. Beautiful. Heroic.”

“I thought I was impulsive and reckless and a stupid idiot,” Barry smiled, craning his neck as he allowed Len to continue. 

“Oh you’re all that too, I promise you that.” Len lunged in for a chaste kiss on the lips before continuing. “But, no wonder you’re a mess. God, Barry, to give that much of yourself? Kid, that’s the kind of thing that can destroy you, the kind of thing people can use against you.”

“Would you?” Barry dared. 

“Never again,” Len answered without hesitation. 

“How come?” Barry asked, tilting his head in question. He knew Len meant what he said, believed the good in him dictated his actions now, but wanted to hear the reasoning if he could get Len to spill. 

“I’m a thief. I’m used to taking what I want, stealing what I need. But here you are giving it away,” Len shrugged, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m serious, Leonard,” Barry insisted, bringing his hands to rest against the sides of Len’s neck. His eyes bore into Len’s with a quiet intensity, an adoration and a question, willing Len to continue to be honest with him. 

“So am I, Bartholomew,” Len lets his hands travel from Barry’s hips to wrap around his waist, staring intently into Barry’s eyes. “I’m not that man anymore, a man that ruins people. And I’m certainly not a guy who enjoys handouts. What kind of thief takes pleasure in an easy score? No, I’m gonna work at this. I’m gonna steal your heart every damn day over and over for as long as I can get away with it.” 

His words, honest and genuine, were rewarded with a new smile Len had yet to see from Barry. It started with a slight upturn of one corner of his mouth but shone through his eyes. 

“It's not really stealing if I give it over willingly,” he said, the smile disappearing in a kiss as he dipped his head to capture Len’s lips between his. 

They hadn’t even bothered to clean up, the kiss atop the counter leading to Len carrying Barry to the bedroom where they lay awake, too insatiable to do anything but explore every inch of each other for hours before finally succumbing to exhaustion from exertion. At least until about twenty minutes ago when Barry’s insatiable hunger forced him to leave the bed. 

It was like they were making up for the time they’d been missing, years of an evolving relationship culminating into two months spent holding each other as if they only had tonight but also as if they had all damn night. Barry would never say it was wasted time from when they’d first met because it brought him here, a here that felt like it was always meant to be even though it had never crossed his mind, something he didn’t know he was missing. And even though it only had been two months, Barry felt like things were clearer than it had ever been. The way they’d come together, how easy it had been to connect now that they were together, Barry felt like having Len in his arms was where he could be content to stay forever. He never wanted to unfold from around him.

“You know those are my boxers, right?” 

Barry nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice that abruptly interrupted his thoughts as Len rounded the corner of the hall into the main living space. 

He looked down and realized that, yes these definitely weren’t his and smiled sheepishly at Len. Placing the now empty plate in the sink, Barry then began walking towards the other man who was completely naked. 

“Want them back?” Barry teased, sliding his thumbs between his hips and the waistband as he shimmied up to stand in front of Len.

“Well, if you’re offering to take them off,” Len reached his arms around Barry’s waist, pulling the leaner man against him, bodies pressed together chest against chest as their lips met in a kiss slow and soft. Barry could lose himself in the way Len kissed him, could lose himself in this man. The thought both terrified and excited him. “Come back to bed?”

“Want me to clean up first?” Barry asked. He watched as Len looked over Barry’s shoulder at the left out containers of grilled chicken, vegetables, deli cheese, the mustard jar with the spoon still in it. The new mess intertwined with the mess still left from last night that had been abandoned after their talk of unconditional love led to all-night lovemaking. 

Normally when they’d prepare meals together, Len would reach around him and put things away as Barry finished with them, marveling at how a man with super speed couldn’t find time to clean as he went. Like so many things, they had different techniques and methods of how they went about life. But Len just shrugged and looked back to Barry. 

“It can wait,” Len answered in a breathy whisper, moving his hands from around Barry’s waist to gently grab his wrists, pulling him back toward the bedroom where he hoped for them to spend a little more time together before the rest of the world woke. 

Barry followed without question, knowing he was in too deep to turn back now, not that he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "So Beautiful" by Darren Hayes & Savage Garden


	7. The Only One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When the colors all collide inside, well, I can barely hide  
> You are the only one  
> No one can keep me from the danger I possess  
> You keep me stronger  
> You are the only one   
> And now I love you even more   
> There is no other  
> No one else I place above you  
> You are the only one"

“Barry Allen, where the hell have you been?” 

Barry knew he was in trouble. He’d heard those words in that tone before, that ‘I’ve been worried sick’ or ‘you have so much explaining to do’ countless times in his life. The first time he’d run away from Joe’s house he heard it from an eleven year old Iris who stood at the top of the stairs in her pj’s, hands on her hips; the day after Simon Stagg was given the Man of the Year award when Barry had failed to show up the night before at Jitters to help Iris with her article, her having no clue yet that he was the Streak. He hated making her worry, hated to disappoint her even more, but today as he barely got one foot in the door of the loft they still shared, he heard her voice in that tone and knew worry and disappointment were taking a back seat to annoyance.

It was Sunday and he was not expecting to run into Iris, ex-wife and best friend who he was currently still sharing a loft with. Iris had kept the large bedroom upstairs and Barry crashing on a cot in the office off the main living room. It wasn’t an ideal setup but it was actually turning out be the perfect transition for them. They had become so used to coexisting and with still six months left on the lease of the loft, they planned on getting their separate spaces then. So they were roommates, still sharing most of the living spaces but creating at least a few boundaries in their still-entwined lives as they tried to move on.

Iris had been busy working on the Citizen and Barry spending so much time with Len that the two of them hadn’t spent much time together, seeing each other in those few sporadic moments when he was coming home from CCPD and she was on her way out the door to meet with contacts to help her taker he paper to the next level. But on Sundays, Iris allowed herself to sleep in before heading to an afternoon yoga class. After spending a few hours in bed with Len, he flashed home to the loft with the plan to shower and change before heading to S.T.A.R. Labs. Barry had hoped he had timed it so that he’d be back in the loft before she came down around ten a.m. as if he’d come in last night after she’d gone to bed. He did not expect to zip in and see her sitting at the head of the long dining table, arms crossed over her chest with a look he knew from experience, a look she just so happened to have inherited from her father. 

“Hey, Iris!” he said, a little too enthusiastically, casually strolling over to the table with an awkward wave. 

“Do not ‘hey Iris’ me, Bartholomew,” she glared, pointing a finger at him and then pointing at the chair to the left of her. “Sit.”

Barry complied with a sigh, sitting in the chair and laying his arms across the table surface, hands clasped in a nervous fist. 

“You didn’t come home last night, or the night before,” Iris said, her tone conversational but Barry knew better than to be lured into a false sense of security at the faux calmness. “I stopped by S.T.A.R. Labs before coming home, thinking you were overworking yourself with Flash stuff. I thought I’d surprise you with some dinner since you’ve been so busy these last few weeks that I’ve barely seen you and low and behold, Cisco informs me you haven’t been spending your spare time there.”

“Iris-“

“So if you’re not at the Labs, not in uniform, and not at the loft,” Iris interrupted his interruption, “just where are you spending all your free time?”

“It’s nothing,” Barry sighed, trying not to meet her eyes.

“We promised each other that if we were going to make this friendship work post-marriage, we were going to be honest with each other,” Iris replied, voice now suddenly void of anger as she reached a hand out to cover Barry’s two tightly clasped ones on the tabletop. “Talk to me, Barr.”

He knew she was right. But how do you tell someone about something you’re not even sure how to describe? Even more so, how do you tell your ex-partner that you’ve moved on? Nothing about his new relationship could be defined simply, but they had discussed the terms partner or boyfriend so maybe he was overthinking it all. 

“I’ve met someone,” Barry finally revealed, looking up at Iris’ expecting eyes.

“Barry that’s great! Who is she?” Iris asked. When Barry didn’t answer right away, Iris narrowed her eyes. “Or he?”

Barry sighed again, dropping his head as he tried to find the words. 

“Uh oh, it's a he,” Iris said, pulling away as she leaned back into the chair. “Not uh-oh its a guy, that's not what I mean.” 

“I know, Iris,” Barry nodded, his voice conveying gratitude rather than grief. When he came out to her when he was fourteen she not only helped him research the LGBT community, she also immediately started the gay-straight alliance in their high school and helped him come out to Joe and Henry. He knew her apprehension had nothing to do with him being into men but about the type of man he was into; he knew exactly where this conversation was going because they’d had it a couple of times before. 

“Ok good, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you know you have two types” Iris explained, lifting her hands as if they were balancing scales to convey her point, “nice girls and bad boys.”

“I do not have types,” Barry scoffed, his turn to cross his arms over his chest as he glared at Iris.

“You most certainly do!” Iris laughed, ticking off her fingers as she spoke. “Patty, Linda, me of course, the nicest of them all. And I know you had a little thing for Felicity.”

“What about Becky Cooper?” Barry teased, laughing at the instant eye roll that he got in response.

“There’s an exception to every rule,” Iris scowled, not giving his attempt to derail her point more attention than that. “Now there was Kyle who was in that band in high school that couldn’t bother coming to class half the time. Then there were those two guys you met while at CCU, Jake on the hockey team that spent more time in the penalty box then on the ice and Hal that would flirt with anything with a pulse that you met at that bar. Hell, I think if Oliver Queen wasn’t dripping with heterosexuality you’d’ve gone after him.”

“Fine!” Barry threw up his hands, standing from the chair and pacing the length of the table. “You’re right. The guy I’m seeing is a total bad boy. I mean, not really anymore but still, when he was bad, he was really bad. But he’s good too and I don’t know what this is Iris, but I like being with him. And it’s totally crazy, I shouldn’t even have considered this more or less be spending as much time with him as I have. This is so going to blow up in my face but I don’t even care-“

“Barry!” Iris said, getting up from the table to stop Barry as he spiraled, grabbing his arms in a tight but grounding grip. “Calm down.”

Barry took a deep breath, thankful that Iris had stopped him when she did because he was probably just a sentence away from revealing who he was talking about. But then Iris spoke and then his stomach dropped to his toes.

“Geeze, Barry, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were talking about Leonard Snart,” Iris laughed. When Barry’s eyes widened, Iris gasped, dropping the hands holding his arms. “Oh my god. Are you serious? How long?”

“Right after the incident at the bank,” Barry winced, shrugging at his friend.

“That was two months ago! Oh my god, Dad is gonna have a canary,” Iris sighed, stepping back to lean against the table at the news. “On the plus side, Cisco owes me twenty bucks from a bet we made years ago.”

“Iris you can’t say anything,” Barry pleaded, lifting both hands to rest at the base of his neck. “Please, I just don’t want everyone to know yet. Not until I figure this all out.”

“My lips are sealed,” Iris insisted, watching the tension in his body relax slightly. “You said figure it out. What’s to figure out?”

“I like him, a lot. Which is completely insane considering who he is and who I am but I don’t know Iris,” Barry started pacing again, not in anxiety but in analysis, like somehow with every step he could unravel his thoughts. “But it’s like none of it matters, ya know? I mean it started as just two guys who are into each other but it’s evolved way past that. We cook together, we veg out on the couch with take-out watching movies. We argue, we laugh, we talk about everything from important stuff to some really insignificant things. And the best part it is we just accept who the other is. No masks, no asking each other to be something we’re not and just living with the consequences of our pasts. We can just be.”

He turned to her then and she smiled. With each word, each truth he revealed to her she could see not only the weight lift off his shoulders but an actual lightness radiate from him as he spoke about someone he obviously cared about deeply. And he was the one she was worried about moving on after their divorce. Iris was taking a much-needed break, focusing on herself and her paper, and was feeling for the first time in a long time like she had her own journey. But Barry had been in love with her their whole lives and she’d been terrified that he’d close himself off to finding love again. If her timeline was correct, they’d tried for four months before getting divorced and after two months being separated, Barry then became involved with Snart. She knew he wasn’t a rebound, Barry wasn’t the type, so whatever this was, it had to be the real deal for Barry to be so flustered about his feelings, for him to be willing to give something new a try.

“Why are you smiling?” His question interrupted her fond musing. He was wringing his hands in front of him, biting the inside of his cheek. He was nervous, waiting for her to say something, to pass the judgment he felt he deserved, to condemn him because for some reason he thought he was doing something wrong by being happy with this man. “Why are you so calm about this?”

“Please, I saw the way you pressed him against the fireplace at Christmas,” Iris teased. “I mean seriously Barry, once he stopped trying to kill you it was nothing but flirting while you were fighting. The only thing missing was him pulling on your pigtails on the playground.”

“Iris!” Barry groaned, covering his eyes with his hands, Iris trying not to laugh as she saw the blush spread across his cheeks.

“Besides, isn’t it like an unwritten rule that heroes are supposed to have sexual tension with their not-so-bad guys? We know Oliver’s definitely slept with probably half of his villainesses. And I’ve heard rumors about the Batman in Gotham with that cat burglar. And according to Sara-“

“Please stop,” Barry groaned again, hands moving from his face to interlock behind his head, leaning it back, praying to the sky for a lighting bolt to suddenly appear and put him out of his misery. 

“Seriously, Barr, did you think I’d be mad?” Iris giggled, crossing her arms over her chest. She watched him for a moment before sighing, sobering up her playful tone. “Things are different. They’re not black and white anymore, we’ve lived in too much gray area these past five years. A lot has changed since he first stole the cold gun. That was before you’d saved the world half a dozen times, before I was a journalist, before Caitlin and Cisco developed their powers, and before he teamed up with our friends on a time saving mission. Time has changed us all, it stands to reason that it’s changed him too.”

Barry sighed, dropping his hands to his sides, the sudden relief he felt just from having the most important person in his life know about what was going on and understanding. 

“Thanks, Iris.”

She looked him up and down, deep in thought before she sighed and moved to hug her friend. 

“I’m always here for you, Barr,” Iris said, feeling him relax in her arms at her words. When she pulled away only far enough to keep him at arm's length, she reached her hands to cup the sides of the neck, forcing her to look at him. “You’re my best friend, that will never change no matter what else does. I’d still dive off a building for you.”

“I know you would,” Barry chuckled before biting his lip. “You sure you’re okay with this? I mean not the fact that it’s Snart, but-“

“The fact that you’re moving on?” Iris finished quietly, looking up at him with a small smile. When he nodded, face a vision of uncertainty, she answered as honestly as she could. “Barry, that’s all I want for you. Between your parents and then Nora, you’ve lost so much.”

“We both have,” Barry whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. She nodded against him as she closed her eyes, swallowing down her rising emotions. She loved this man more than anything, and some days she longed to be in love with him again. But after losing their child, a child they didn’t even get a real shot at building a family around, they’d lost that ‘in love’ feeling between them. She knew this was better for them individually as well as together. They could move on with their lives without the weight of the past, without the weight of the future. And holding him now as he asked for her guidance like he always had, it brought her comfort to know that no matter how much things had changed and changed again, some things never would. 

“Yes, we have. But, Barry, no one has given more than you have,” she said, pulling away to look up at him, smiling sadly. They all had felt loss. But Barry had lost more than most, felt the weight of each death in his life as if it was by his own hand. He felt responsible for his mother’s, his father’s, for Eddie and Ronnie, even for Nora. And she knew he felt the loss of Snart when he’d found out from Ray, how after the Dominator debacle was over he confided in her his grief, his regret for not getting to see Leonard in action as the hero he always saw behind the ice-cold villain, and the remorse that he felt that he had somehow pushed Snart in the direction that led to his death. But with all those losses, especially the feeling so fresh after Nora, to have someone return, to come back into his life after losing so many, Iris could only imagine what that was doing for Barry’s heart, what the win meant for him.

“All I want for you is to be happy and be with someone who brings you peace,” she smiled up at him. 

“I want that for you too. No matter what happens, you’re my best friend, Iris. I’ll always love you,” he assured her. He paused for a moment closing his eyes as he spoke. She could see him trying to maintain his composure, breathing slowly through his nose, eyelids trying to lock in tears, clenched jaw in an attempt to halt the quiver. 

“Barr?” Iris asked quietly, thumb on her left hand, the hand that once adorned an engagement ring and wedding band, gently stroking his cheek trying to coax him to open up, to tell her what was on his mind.

“My whole life, everyone I’ve ever considered sharing my life with, I compared them to you. I’ve only ever known how to be in love with you, Iris. Even when I tried to be with other people, you were always the gold standard, how did they stack up to you,” he whispered, eyes still tightly closed. “After us, honestly, Iris, I never thought I’d ever...could ever, love anyone else.”

It broke her heart to hear him say that. Their breakup had been mutual, and although they knew nothing could compare to their connection, Iris was confident that they’d each discover a path right for them to move forward. She had hoped Barry felt that same way, that the universe would take care of them. With Leonard coming back now, after all this time, after everything they’d been through, Iris knew this wasn’t a coincidence. Not with their lives.

“Barry Allen, you have the greatest capacity to love I’ve ever known. I’m glad you’re allowing yourself a second chance, and with someone who you clearly have a deep connection with,” she responded quietly, staring into his eyes when he finally opened them, seeing them begin to well with tears. She held his gaze so he knew she meant what she said. “Do you find yourself comparing Leonard to me?”

He shook his head gently and she smiled up at him. 

“When you’re with him, at any time are you thinking about me, about us?”

“No,” Barry chuckled softly, blushing slightly.

“You said you’ve been in love with me your whole life but here we are, past that. You still have your whole life ahead of you. Maybe this is your next life, Barry. Think about all that had to happen to get you to this point, for him to come back into your life now. Don’t feel guilty for finding someone, for living your life. Take this as a win,” Iris tilted his head down to press a kiss gently against his forehead. 

As she pulled away, gently unfolding herself from around him, she saw his eyes shine with gratitude, with contentment, and she knew he’d been holding this in his heart, just waiting for her to set him free.

“Are you certain you’re safe with him?” She asked him sincerely, holding him at arm's length, holding his gaze so she could look for a lie, a hesitation.

“Yes,” he nodded, confident. 

“And he’s good to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded again, a pull at his lips with the softest of smiles. 

“And you’re happy?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. When he couldn’t stop the smile at that question it gave Iris the answer before the words left his mouth.

“I am,” he nodded again, eyes confirming his words. Iris dropped her hands then from his arms, crossing hers over her chest once again. 

“Okay,” she nodded now. “That’s what I needed to know.”

“Thank you for understanding. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Barry leaned in to kiss her affectionately on the cheek. 

“I told you I was the nicest,” she smirked at him. “Now you have to tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "The Only One" by Darren Hayes


	8. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to step into your world, show me a secret  
> I promise to keep it safe and sheltered from the storm  
> I would cross the divide that keeps me swimming   
> Treading water from your shore  
> "Now I wanna coax you from your hell into an alley  
> The hidden valley where the truth can surely spill  
> I wanna take the weight that drags you to the ground  
> Spare this treasure that I found  
> But your words are like weapons  
> But you’ll keep them inside, they cut like a knife  
> And you keep it together  
> Those feelings inside, there’s nowhere to hide  
> But away from  
> And I just wanna listen to your words"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild language and sex in this scene...amongst some heartbreaking conversation

Barry paused outside the door, reaching into his pockets before realizing he didn’t have the key to the apartment. 

“Shit,” he whispered, his head falling back in exasperation. He was praying that the key was on the table back at the loft and that he hadn’t lost it already. Len had just given him the key a few days ago so that he could let himself in if he was in the neighborhood even when they didn’t have planned dates. Barry had beamed up at him when Len presented the key. Len had tried to play it off as not a big deal, claiming that it was for when he was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by for a bite to eat or to hang out but Barry knew what it represented. They both knew Barry could phase so the key was more meaningful than that. It was an open invitation into Len’s life.

It had been four months now since they’d been...dating? Seeing each other? Barry still wasn’t sure how to describe what he was doing with the former cold villain turned part-time hero. The terms partner and boyfriend had been tossed around to each other, but neither men had told anyone, with the exception of Iris. They weren’t keeping it a secret per se, but they hadn’t had the opportunity to explain their relationship to anyone. The need to define it hadn’t come up. Instead, they were just free to be, whatever it was they decided to be. But they’d been spending an inordinate amount of time with each other, Barry staying more nights over than not, and now the key, it could only be described as dating even if they hadn’t acknowledged that’s what it was yet. 

Barry knocked twice before phasing through the door. The entryway lead right into the living room and Len was standing right where the hardwood met the ornate rug, blocking Barry’s direct route.

"Hey!" Barry smiled awkwardly after they stared at each other for a minute.

"You lost the key already,” Len said, deadpan, face blank. 

"I didn't lose it," Barry insisted, defiant. 

"Then why did you phase through the door?" Len asked, voice dropping to a register that always made the hair on the back of Barry's neck stand up in the best way.

“I didn’t lose it,” Barry said again, defensive, taking a step forward, awkwardly smiling at Len. “I just didn’t feel like going all the way home to get it.”

"Right, because that would take all of three seconds for a speedster," Len remarked. His face remained blank until he finally took a step back, chucking as he headed towards the kitchen. "I know this is an absurd question but are you hungry? I made a couple trays of enchiladas. They should be done in a few.”

“Oh yeah,” Barry pumped his fist, following Len into the kitchen. “Did you make your guacamole too?”

“Scarlet, what do you take me for?” Len scoffed as he moved to check the oven.

Barry leisurely walked around the length of the island bar separating the kitchen and the living room, looking for the dish with mints. Len had a habit of always keeping the dish full but also had a habit of moving it constantly around the apartment. 

“Winter mint,” Len had drawled in his Captain Cold voice before kissing him deeply, the cool crisp taste stinging Barry’s own mouth as their tongues had danced. Len’s kisses always had a hint of the flavor and Barry had found himself craving the taste even when his lips weren’t attached to Len’s. 

As Barry looked around the apartment for the bowl, not finding it on the island countertop where he’d seen it last, he looked over to the coffee table before finally spotting it atop Len’s desk on the other side of the room.

Strolling over to the far side of the living space, Barry reached for the mint dish near the laptop when he spotted the glass surface covered with blueprints. The mints were immediately forgotten as he spread a hand across the paper, examining the prints for Concordance Research, a science and tech facility in Keystone. Underneath it were blueprints to an A.R.G.U.S. facility, the same one they had broken into to steal the Dominator tech. Notes in Len’s handwriting were scrawled across the paper but Barry’s eyes couldn’t focus on what they said. 

His vision blurred, he could feel his blood boiling, but even worse was he felt like his chest was tightening. His heart dropped to his stomach and breathing suddenly hurt. It was a sensation he’d felt before. when he discovered Jay was actually Zoom after Cisco had vibed the helmet, when he’d discovered who he’d thought was Harrison Wells was actually the man in yellow who killed his mother. Betrayal. And something else just below the surface that he couldn’t quite name. 

"Scarlet? You alright?” Barry heard Len ask as he entered the living room.

He had turned off the oven, leaving the dishes inside to keep them warm. When he had called out to Barry from the kitchen, the man hadn’t answered despite the repeated attempts and had just stood there as if frozen to the floor.

"I'm fine," Barry said finally, moving to walk straight past him as he headed for the door, determined to leave. Len reached a hand out to grab his left arm, stopping him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Len asked, concerned and confused at Barry’s sudden mood change. Barry looked down at the arm that held him before phasing through it, stepping back with a glare, hands crossing over his chest in a defensive self hug.

"What are those blueprints?" He couldn’t help but back away. He didn’t want Len near him right now. 

"Barry," Len sighed as he held up a hand to halt the flow of words about to spill out of his lover, trying to stop the man so he could explain.

"I’m so stupid," Barry murmured under his breath, angry tears welling in his eyes as his emotions threatened to overflow but he quickly swallowed them down before glaring at Len. “I trusted you, I thought things were different!”

"Just what do you think is going on?" Len glared back at him, his voice turning hard instead of yelling, a measure on the control of his feelings, something Barry envied. "Tell me, hmm, since you seem to have jumped to a conclusion already. What do you think I’m doing, Barry? Or should I say Flash, because it seems like he’s the one confronting me right now.”

Barry shook his head, anger swelling before he was gone in a spark of lightning. Before Len could finish the thought that Barry had just left, Barry returned just as quickly. But he was now dressed in the bright red suit, cowl down, and had put the parka onto Len and the cold gun in his now gloved hands. 

“There, that better?” Barry snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Len stared at Barry for a long moment, grip tightening on the handle of the cold gun before he threw it onto the nearby island countertop.

“You don’t trust me.” Len took a step towards Barry.

“No, I do trust you and that’s the problem,” Barry moved his gloved hands to his hips, staring down Len like he had that night in the forest so many years ago, right after Len had discovered the Flash’s name. “I keep trusting you. I keep trusting everyone I shouldn’t, no matter how many times I get burned. No matter how many times I’ve been lied to, I keep trusting.”

“I’m not Wells, I’m not Zolomon,” Len said, taking a step closer, voice low and steady. The hurt in Len’s voice was barely contained by the steady anger but Barry didn’t miss it. He’d become too familiar with the man by now. Just like how Len had known exactly who he was referring to; they’d shared so much with each other and for the first time, Barry regretted it. 

“Don’t!” Barry hissed through clenched teeth, voice sounding angry if you didn’t know any better. But Len knew better. It was a plea, not anger. It was Barry begging Len not to continue, not to force him to open up further. But Len also knew he had to keep pushing if he was going to break through to the man, to get to the root of his anger and pain.

“You’ve always known who I am, but suddenly you think these past few months have been what? A con?” Len drawled in that Captain Cold voice, words exaggerated and calculated, slowly walking towards Barry. “You want to know why this works between us? How I knew I was attracted to you? I was attracted to the feeling that you brought out in me, the feeling of being so evenly matched, that feeling of a challenge at first, and then the desire to impress. We complement each other Barry. I see through your heroic bravado and know that inside there is just a broken boy wanting to see the good in the world. And you see through my ice-cold heart and know that I’m just as broken. But we’re not trying to fix each other because we don’t need to be fixed. We just need to be real and we can be that with each other. So I’m calling you out. Be real with me.” 

Barry stared at him, his jaw clenched, the anger returning, and then suddenly that emotion he couldn’t identify below the surface of his rage. Guilt. Len was asking him to be real with him and Barry knew there was a guilt he was keeping from Len, a secret that he hadn’t shared and had done everything in his power to keep from him. Something he kept trying to push down, had not yet acknowledged even as he fell deeper and deeper into the man. 

“I can’t do this,” Barry moved to walk past him but Len stepped in front of the access to the front door, blocking Barry’s escape. Barry just stopped short of colliding with Len, head down, body visibly shaking.

“Move, Len,” Barry demanded in a low, steady voice, head bowed, breathing through his nose, body rigid, eyes remaining fixed on the floor.

“Nope. Not happening,” Len replied casually. Barry still refused to look up. “Can’t even stand to look at me, Scarlet?” he sighed, staring at his lover, resisting the urge to shake him.

Barry’s eyes darted up, looking directly into Len’s blue eyes. He saw that cold stare but there was something Barry couldn’t place, something like disappointment. Barry just clenched his jaw more and lunged to dart past him. Len knew what to expect though and grabbed Barry by the arms. Barry brought his fists up and clutched at Len’s parka. He struggled, trying to push Len away from him, but Len just held him at arms length.

“Let go of me,” Barry all but growled, pushing back at Len’s chest with no real strength, his anger only a mask for the anguish he was feeling.

“You don’t get to run from this,” Len said in a low voice. He knew there was more to this than Barry was letting on, he just had to get to the heart of if. “Talk to me. Tell me you think I’ve conned you, tell me you don’t trust me anymore. Tell me you’ve changed your mind about us.”

“This is the part where you throw away the plan right?” Barry shoved at him again, ignoring the question, finally getting Len to let go and take a step back, knowing it had less to do with the force of the shove and more to do with Len refusing to be like his father by holding him forcefully. It caused a twinge of regret that Barry had shoved at him to begin with but it was quickly washed away with the fresh wave of aggravation. “Making the plan was seducing me, executing the plan was fucking me.”  
He didn’t expect the flinch from Len, whether it was the word, the accusation, or the loudness in his voice, Barry wasn’t sure. He could barely register anything other than his own words, not even the hot tears that began to roll down his cheeks.

“The plan went off the rails though when you fucked me more than once, let me stay and held me, made me believe I was worth a damn. And now you're done with me, time to cut ties, throw away the plan!” Barry shouted, so goddamn frustrated as he went to shove at him again but Len caught his wrists this time, gloved hands moving to grip the red gloved fists. “Well, the jokes on you because I’m not worth a damn!”

“Barry,” Len spoke, holding the wrists tight between their bodies. Barry could easily pull away, could overpower him in a heartbeat but that’s not really what he wanted, wasn’t that kind of fight. 

“I’m a liar and I hurt people. I’m selfish and deserved to be fucked with! I used you, Len!” Barry spat, pulling at the grip on the hands holding his wrists, not trying to lash out at Len, just desperate to run. “I used you and put you back knowing what was going to happen!”

He stopped thrashing then, shaking as Len’s grip loosened slightly around his wrists, refusing to meet Len’s eyes. A sudden realization struck Len then, knowing what he was talking about, aware now what the A.R.G.U.S. blueprints had triggered. This had nothing to do with Barry thinking Len was back to planning heists. The sight of the A.R.G.U.S. blueprints sent Barry back to when he’d asked for his help in Siberia, triggered a troubling memory for the younger man, guilt about knowing Len’s future and not sharing it. 

“I know,” Len sighed. 

Barry’s head snapped up at the quiet response, green eyes wet and pained. 

“I knew the whole time,” Len met his gaze, thumbs now stroking the captured wrists in his hands, wishing the gloves and suit weren’t between them so he could really touch and comfort Barry. “You came back in time to get me instead of hailing the Waverider. And when we got back to your clubhouse to go over how to steal the tech to save Iris, I saw the date was nowhere near when we’d left on Rip’s little trip. I know time travel is tricky but I also knew we hadn’t been gone that long. From there it was easy to figure out that in your time, I was dead.”

“Why didn’t you-“ Barry shook his head, voice raspy from the shouting and the tears.

“Because I learned quickly on that mission that changing things didn’t mean it was going to turn out for the better,” Len gave a slight tug on Barry’s arms, pulling the man closer to him. 

“I used you,” Barry whispered, brow furrowed, confused how Len could not hate him right now.

“How many times had I used you?” Len replied, but Barry wasn’t having any of it.

“It’s not the same!” Barry was angry again, but now at himself, and started to try to pull away again, tears flowing freely. “How can you be okay with this! I put you back, knowing you were going to die. I used you and then left you there to die, Len!”

“And I let you!” Len shouted back, trying to get through to the distressed man. “I could’ve done something but I didn’t. I knew that whatever was ahead of me was better than what I’d left behind!”

“And that’s my fault!” Barry confessed, voice loud and desperate. Len just stared, the fight leaving Barry’s body, shaking instead as his arms fell forward to cling to the lapels of Len’s jacket, not to keep him at bay, but almost like a life preserver as he held on. 

“You’re right. It is your fault,” Len spoke, voice calm and steady, a harsh counterpoint to the desperation in Barry’s eyes. “It’s your fault that I chose to become a better person, your fault that I saw more for my life. But never once did I blame you for my death. And you do not get to take credit for my sacrifice. It was my fault I was inspired to be something more. My actions are my own. There are no strings on me, not even from you.”

Not once did he ever regret what he’d done for his team. But now, he regretted the effect it had on Barry, the guilt that the man took on for his choice. But he knew Barry wouldn’t hear any of that, so instead, he went back to Barry’s original confession, the original accusation of not trusting Len, although Len now knew where the real pain stemmed from. 

“You’re not wrong about there being a plan, but you’ve got the steps all wrong,” Len insisted, his voice soft and earnest as he continued. “Making the plan was finally getting the courage to be real with you. Executing the plan was courting you, not seducing you. Getting to know you, Barry, like I’d wanted to for so long. Expecting the plan to go off the rails was knowing that if you allowed me in just a bit, this would become so much more than I’ve ever had before because you’re so much more than any person I’d ever met.“

Len ducked his head to look into Barry’s eyes, his voice strong and firm as he tried to make Barry understand. 

“And the plan was thrown away when I realized I’d never be strong enough to walk away. That even though you deserved so much better than an old thief who’d hurt you in the past, who had used you, I was in too deep, too selfish to let you go. I care too much for you.”

Barry was still now, taking a deep breath or two before looking up at his lover.

“I do trust you. What I don’t trust is that you won’t break my heart when I lose you just like everyone else,” Barry replied, voice trembling, barely above a whisper that Len had to lean in to hear. “I’m a curse. Almost everyone I love leaves or gets hurt because of me somehow. The blueprints...I don’t want you to go to jail, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone else I care about behind by bars. I left you behind once, I don’t want to do it again.” 

The grief in Barry’s eyes was almost too much for Len to handle as they shone with tears. The expression on the younger man’s face was desperate, bright with fear and on the verge of crumbling.

“Look, I know what it’s like to leave someone behind. I left Mick behind when he became a danger to the team and we all paid for my mistake. Was it the right thing to do, I don’t know. It felt like it at the time. I had to hurt someone I cared about to save other people I cared about. And then I sacrificed myself to make it right. Sound familiar?”

Barry shook his head. He knew what Len was trying to do. The man had shared with him the story of Mick wanting to leave, becoming a threat to the team, and the struggle they went through to get to a place where they could work together again before Len sacrificed himself, unable and unwilling to leave Mick behind a second time. Len was trying to equate his mistakes and sacrifice to Barry’s with flashpoint and everything subsequent. But Len was missing the point, was not understanding what Barry was trying to tell him. 

“I’ve already lost too many people and it being my fault. I let you get too close, I can’t lose you too. I don’t want you to die again because of me,” Barry’s voice broke off into a sob. He’d used Len in the past, and by falling for him now, put his life in harm's way in the future, and the thought was threatening to drown him.

“Your parents, their deaths are not on you. They were the choices of bad men who wanted to cause you pain,” Len moved his hands from Barry’s wrists to grip at his shoulders, eyes hard with truth as he tried to make Barry understand. “Take it from a guy who has used people you love to hurt you.”

“No, it’s not the same,” Barry shook his head, voice wet but strong as he denied Len’s last statement. “My mom, my dad, Thawne and Zolomon killed them to hurt me. They knew me, they manipulated me. It was my fault. I trusted them, I cared about them, and they betrayed me and took away the people I love. I can’t let that happen to you.”

He’d said it. It wasn’t quite the words but the sentiment was there. Everything Barry was afraid of, of being vulnerable with him completely, of admitting to himself that he’d fallen in love with Len. It wasn’t that Barry was afraid of being in love, Barry wore his heart on his sleeve, everything he did was with his heart. He just never thought the person that would capture it would be the man staring back at him. He was terrified of losing him and terrified it would be his fault. Trying to push him away at the first sight of betrayal was self-preservation. It was easier to have Len walk away than to have him ripped from him like his parents. 

“I don’t need you to protect me. Especially if you’re trying to protect me from you.” Len wanted to say more but Barry wouldn’t let him, stopped him before he could either try to dismiss Barry’s fears further, yell at him for his accusations, or return the sentiment they couldn’t come back from. 

“Bar-mmmm” Len moaned as his back slammed against the door and his mouth was devoured by Barry. His back arched up from the wall, their hips thrust against each other. It was urgent and suffocating and Barry found himself pushing into it, sucking on Len’s lips harder than usual until Len ultimately pulled back with a sigh.

Barry’s hands were on him, sliding the parka off Len’s shoulders as Len fumbled to unzip the Flash suit from behind, cursing Ramon for changing the design of the two separate pieces like his old suits. His hands pulled at the material down over the front of Barry’s shoulders, the man maneuvering his arms out of the material while also trying to shed Len of his clothes. Len finally pulled the suit down Barry’s long body and shoved the material down over Barry’s hips hastily, exposing his cock, already rock hard. Barry groaned and managed to pull the last button of Len’s shirt and Len helped him pull it off when Barry slid the material down over his arms.

Len removed his own belt and his pants slid down to the floor. Barry jumped up, wrapping his legs around Len’s hips, back pressed against the wall, so similar to their first time together. He reached down and grabbed Len by the back of the neck, dipping his head so their lips could meet in a long, steamy kiss that made both their bodies ache. 

Len moved away from the wall, bringing an arm up to brace Barry’s back to keep him on his hips. As he walked them towards the bedroom, Barry’s talented lips trailed up and down Len’s neck, giving Len chills down his spine.

When they reached the bedroom and Len’s knees hit the end of the bed, Barry slid off Len’s hips to land kneeling atop the mattress. Barry grabbed Len’s wrists and gave a light yank, pulling him towards him. With a smooth movement, Len came to kneel on the bed, the two just staring at each other. Barry pulled again on Len’s wrists and captured his hands between them in one hand and circled Len’s back with the other. Len leaned down for a deep kiss, wrapped tightly in Barry’s arms.

When they pulled away from the kiss it was as if time moved in slow motion, the embrace easing slowly. Barry just gazed up at Len for a long moment, saying nothing, just looking lovingly, hands traveling up to Len’s chest and making soft comforting movements across the scars and scattered tattoos. Len just ran his deep gaze over the man kneeling in front of him, hand moving to rest on Barry’s hips, thumbs massaging gently as they moved across the pale skin.

This told Barry everything they weren’t expressing in words earlier. Just moments ago they were fighting, then blood was pumping and their hands and lips were unable to be kept off each other. And now, here they were silent, their eyes the ones unable to tear away from their lover’s gaze. 

It was Len who broke the silence after he leaned in for a soft kiss, gentle and sincere.

“I’m not going anywhere. Trust me,” Len grabbed his face in his hands, voice hardly a whisper before he crushed his lips to Barry’s. His blood pumping again, Barry groaned as the tongue ravished his, Len’s mouth swallowing the moan. Barry suddenly pulled away and twisted, throwing Len back against the bed and with a blink of his eye and a flicker of lightning, swung his body, knees settling on the outside of Len’s thighs to straddle him. 

Barry slowly slid down Len’s body as he tongued his way from his lover’s chest to his stomach, kissing every inch of flesh as Len’s hands slowly glided over Barry’s body. Len then grabbed Barry and pulled him closer, Barry stumbling against Len’s body.  
“Len,” Barry chuckled, as his chest crashed against Len’s chest.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Len smiled against the side of Barry’s neck. He nibbled on Barry’s ear lobe, his hands still gripping on Barry’s hips as he lay on top of him. Barry surrendered instantly, shifting so his ass was in line with Len’s pelvis. 

Barry moved up as he rode Len, one hand’s fingers digging into Len’s shoulder, the other gripping onto the headboard, grinding his hips down as Len’s cock pushed against his hole. 

“Oh fuck,” Barry moaned as Len’s grip on his hips tightened, his cock thrusting up into him. Sprawled across Len, Barry’s body arched up off Len’s with each thrust. 

As Len pushed up into him, Len moved one of his hands from Barry’s hips to pump Barry’s cock in time with his thrusts. He thrust harder and faster, buried deep inside as Barry continued to ride him, the two in sync completely.

Barry hunched inward, his neck stretching as he sucked at the flesh at Len’s neck as his lover thrust up into him while squeezing and stroking his shaft. Barry’s body clamped down on the cock inside him, vibrating in pleasure as Len pushed in twice more until finally feeling himself begin to come. With a few more thrusts and pulls, the two men came together, Len inside of Barry and Barry inside of Len’s hand. 

Len slumped back in bed and Barry collapsed forwards, hands braced against Len’s chest keeping him upright, still feeling Len’s cock twitch inside of him, both men panting. They stayed like that for a few minutes as they came down from the high of the orgasm before Barry lifted himself up off of Len just enough to fall to lay completely on top of him. 

“Ooof,” Len laughed as his lover unceremoniously sprawled across his body.

Barry trailed a hand down Len’s face gently while the other massaged his chest, staring into Len’s eyes. Len held Barry close to him, his own hands running gently down Barry’s bare ass and caressing his muscular thighs before rubbing small circles at the small of his back.

“I swear this is not how I saw the night going when I came over,” Barry smiled down at him. Len smiled back before grabbing Barry’s chin gently and forcing their lips together. As their tongues danced behind sealed lips, Len could feel Barry’s smile against his mouth. They pulled away slowly and Barry folded his arms over Len’s chest, resting his head upon them as he gazed at Len

“Which part? The fucking or the fighting?” Len teased, voice thick with tiredness.

“Both, I don’t know,” Barry says, blushing. “I just never imagined we’d go from the way things were before to...ya know, this.”

“Tell me, Scarlet,” Len requested reaching out to stroke Barry's hand with gentle fingers. “What is this to you, really?”

It was a loaded question. Barry had made it quite clear that he cared for Len, as much as Len cared for him. He’d said as much, not even mentioning the reaction to the blueprints, the visceral fear of losing Len to either jail or death, his guilt at borrowing Len from the past without telling him the truth, all culminating in a blowout as his emotions combined and created weapons our of words as he tried to push Len away by blaming him. It was illogical, but then again so was love. There was no denying what this was between them, even if they hadn’t defined it yet. But now Len was giving them their chance to decide, the lay the cards out on the table and call a spade a spade. 

“We don’t have to define this. I know you don’t like labels,” Barry was quick to say, not wanting to frighten the other man away, giving Len a chance to back out of the sentiment he expressed before. 

“I think we’re way past that kid, ” Len said instead as he took Barry’s face in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over his jawline. “But is this things we’ve started, is this what you really want?”

“My whole life I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted my mom back, I wanted my dad out of prison, and I wanted Iris,” Barry explained, rolling off from where he was sprawled across Len’s body to lay beside him, one hand resting across his own torso while the other stretched behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling. Even though Barry had detached from him physically, Len recognized the feeling of needing to retreat to open up, to create distance to connect as a need for self-preservation.

“But life, life knows what we need and doesn't really care what we want. My mom alive meant the world was a different place and even though it killed me to let her go, I knew I could never have her back. And my dad in prison meant not being taken in by Joe and I wouldn’t be the person, the hero, I am without being raised by him. And a life with Iris, I thought we had a real chance but it couldn’t survive after what we went through and we both deserve a chance to be really happy instead of happy enough,” Barry smiled softly as he looked up at the ceiling. It wasn’t sadness in the smile, but a bittersweetness. “And when Ray told me that you’d died, all I wanted to do was to go back and save you. When I asked you for help with A.R.G.U.S., I wanted so badly to tell you. But I couldn’t, not after flashpoint. So what I want, it doesn't really matter does it?”

“It does matter,” Len replied, head turned to face Barry beside him. “It matters to me.”

“Why?” Barry asked, voice barely above a whisper as he turned his head to face Len.

“Because you matter,” Len took a deep breath before he moved his hand to clasp the one over Barry’s chest, watching as Barry moved to hold it between his own two hands, gently grazing lazy fingers in indistinct patterns over Len’s skin as Len continued to speak. 

“My whole life I’ve accounted for everything. After growing up with a man who I couldn’t predict, I needed to be able to anticipate every move so that I couldn’t get hurt or taken off guard ever again. I calculated everything, the risks versus the payoff, never committing myself fully to any person, place, or thing. And then you came along and who could anticipate you.” 

They both chuckled before Len continued. 

“You were a factor I couldn’t calculate and it terrified me. Suddenly the life I’d built on controlled chaos was at risk and it was all that I had. I had to take you out. I made a lot of mistakes out of self-preservation and fear, hurting your friends, betraying you at Ferris Air when the idea that suddenly I could have a better life by partnering up with Team Flash and no criminal record, anything was on the table and that fear crippled me.” As Len spoke he reached his free hand out to brush back Barry’s hair.

“And then I realized fighting with you was the most fun I’d had in a while. The Captain Cold persona gave me something that was uniquely mine, not the name Snart that followed me around from the stain of a dirty cop and a criminal history, but an identity all my own. Then you saved my sister. And then Mardon wanted to kill you and I couldn’t let him take you by surprise. Not soon after that, I joined the Legends and here was my chance, to be the something more you kept telling me I could be. I was finally ready to carve my own path. To be a better man than my father ever was.” 

As Len spoke, Barry had moved towards him, shimmying his body as he pressed himself against Len’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist, head resting on his shoulder.

“You are nothing like Lewis,” Barry assured, voice quiet, looking up at Len from where he leaned against him. “You have a light in you. I’ve always seen it. I hope you do now too.” 

Len smiled softly down at him, a hand resting on the arm wrapped around his waist, thumb stroking against the smooth soft skin as Barry continued to speak.

“What you said before about using the people I love to hurt me. I’m not saying what you did to Cisco and Caitlin was right but you did it to hurt the Flash, a faceless adversary who you saw as a threat spoiling your plans,” Barry whispered up at him, hands rubbing up and down the base of Len’s spine with gentle fingers. “Thawne, Zoom, they killed my parents violently in front of me for no reason other than to cause me pain. It was deliberate, they knew me, I trusted and cared about them. When you took my friends, you knew nothing about who I was. You’re not like them. And you’re not like your father.”

Len leaned forward, planting a soft kiss against Barry’s lips before folding himself deeper around the young man, pulling him to his chest, resting his head upon Barry’s tousled hair. Barry nuzzled into the crook of Len’s neck, moving his own hands to rest on Len’s chest between their bodies.

“You were my last thought before the Oculus blew, how pissed I was that you were right about me. But I was even more pissed that I’d missed my chance to thank you.” Len’s voice was quiet as he spoke, the words whispered into tufts of brown hair as Barry listened intently, not pulling away to look at Len’s face as he spoke, just staying wrapped in each his arms. “You made my game better, you made me better just because of how damn good you are. You gave me hope and that’s a dangerous thing. But I like danger. I can’t anticipate you and that's dangerous. And then I saw you in trouble, bleeding out in my arms and terror gripped me again at the thought of losing the thing that had turned my life around into a different kind of controlled chaos, one that actually brought a spark to my life that I’d never felt. The thought of that spark going out...”

Barry lay curled against Len, head resting on his shoulder, his hand rested upon his chest as fingertips traced the skin of his collarbone as he continued to listen to Len’s confession.

“I couldn’t bear it, Scarlet. And not because of the game or the fun, but the idea of living in this life without your spark in it. And I realized then what I could never have anticipated, that you mattered to me.”

Barry looked up at him, tears in his eyes.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal,” Len spoke in a beautiful melody, his fingers dancing up and down Barry’s bare arms, their eyes locked. “Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

“C.S. Lewis,” Barry acknowledged, recognizing the author, still trapping Len in his gaze, afraid to question the quote Len just recited. “What are you saying?”

“Everything I did, who I was, locking away my heart, focusing on myself and my triumphs, it made me who I am now. I’m saying our pasts lead us here. Including our adventure at A.R.G.U.S., You put me back and because you didn’t tell me, it gave me the chance to still become that something more. I wouldn’t change any of it,” Len didn’t even hesitate to answer, his hand moving to cup Barry’s cheek. “I’m saying I want to be vulnerable with you. I want this, I want you. What do you want?”

Barry kissed him deeply and slowly, breathing him in as Len did the same, trying to put every ounce of what he was feeling into one passionate kiss, afraid that words would fail him.

“I want this,” Barry whispered when they finally pulled away, ready to admit to Len and himself how much he cared about him. “I don’t want to push you away or run because I’m afraid of losing you. I want us. I want there to be an us.”

“Good,” Len smiled back, pressing a chaste kiss against Barry’s lips before wrapping his arms tighter around Barry as the other man nuzzled in impossibly closer against his body.

“And just for the record,” Len interrupted the sweet silence, “those blueprints are for a job. A real one. Raymond recommended my particular expertise to a friend of his who is about to land a major contract with the government. They have a similar entrance layout that the A.R.G.U.S. facility we broke into had and I was using it as reference material. He wants me to use my unique set of skills to find the faults in his building's security system.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? For real?” Barry exclaimed, trying not to laugh as he pushed himself off of Len, leaning up on his elbows to glare down at the other man. 

Len laughed as Barry tried to smack him, grabbing Barry’s wrists and giving a light yank on his arms, pulling him against his chest as he rolled them over till Len was on top, capturing his hands between them in one hand and circling between Barry’s back and the mattress with the other.

“A real job,” Barry laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re going straight.”

“Not exactly straight, Scarlet,” Len said with a wink, dipping his head to kiss along Barry’s jawline, speaking between kisses. “Besides, even if it is a legal job, I’m still a wanted criminal.”

“Um, not actually,” Barry couldn’t help but respond, stretching his neck to allow Len easier access as he kissed and nipped at the flesh.

“I think you've been hit in the head by a giant gorilla one too many times kid. You may have wiped my files clean but after that, I went to jail for murdering Lewis.”

“Yeah, about that,” Barry stammered, Len halting to look at him. “When I found out about your death, the Flash may have gone to the DA and petitioned to get your case overturned. I told her about what he’d done to your sister, told her it was technically self-defense and got you a posthumous pardon.”

“You’re joking,” Len blinked. “We’ve been seeing each other for months, how is this the first time you’re mentioning this to me?”

“It never came up!” Barry laughed as he defended. “And even though you technically broke out of jail with Mardon and Jesse, you’d have been released anyway so if they try to catch you on that I could probably call in a favor. But anything you do other than that is on you so you might want to stick with the security consulting as your only kind of B&E. No more breaking into places just to have alley sex!”

Len smiled down at Barry, wondering what the hell he’d done to deserve a nemesis turned friend who’d go to such lengths to prove him innocent after his death, not to mention having that same person become something he wasn’t sure he could live without anymore. 

Before Len could try to find the words to thank him, to tell him how much it meant to him, how much he meant to him, Barry leaned up for a deep kiss, wrapped tightly in Len’s embrace and all thoughts went out that window as Len decided he’d just have to show him instead. Len, still hovering over Barry, thrust both hands through his hair and crushed their lips together hard, thrusting his tongue into Barry's mouth. Barry kissed back just as hard, wrapped himself around Len, rolling them until Len was on his back. 

They maybe weren’t ready to say the words yet even though they both knew that was what it was between them. Barry didn’t have doubts about them like Len thought initially at the beginning of their night, but instead revealed he doubted himself and his worthiness of Len’s love. So maybe Len wasn’t ready to say the words, but he could make sure Barry felt it. Over and over if necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Words" by Darren Hayes


	9. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I never needed nobody, now I never want to leave you alone  
> It’s crazy, how every time you smile you make the world disappear  
> And baby, you light up my horizon  
> Like I just started breathing for the first time in my life  
> I’m alive  
> And when I’ve lost all reason  
> And when I’ve lost all of my hope  
> You are something to believe in  
> You took my heart of stone and turned it into gold"

Len knew he should try to go back to sleep. His internal alarm didn’t usually wake him for another couple of hours where his morning routine started with a six a.m. workout, either weights at home followed by making breakfast for four even though it was usually only him and a hungry speedster, or he’d go for a jog in the neighborhood with a stop at a local bodega for the paper and some breakfast sandwiches and pastries. Sometimes though he’d just lie in bed till the man pressed against him roused as well, an air of domesticity that Len didn’t realize he was capable of or that he’d ever want but just felt so natural and right with Barry.

This morning though Len had woken up at four a.m. after only just falling asleep three hours ago. He lay on his back awake and turned his head to see his bedmate on his back as well, sharing Len’s pillow, their head just inches from each other. Barry’s long brown lashes rest against pale skin, lips pressed together softly, right arm and upper body pressed against Len’s side but his left arm crooked up and over his head. He looked at peace, relaxed and Len was just so relieved to see that Barry had been able to rest, the thought of getting out of bed and going about his day didn’t even enter his mind. He was content to watch him and make sure he stayed that way. Especially after last night.

It had been eleven p.m. when Len couldn’t go back to sleep after Barry received a sudden alert on his phone. He’d fathwoomed out of there with a quick kiss to Len’s lips, a promise he’d be back in a flash, and the suggestion that Len go back to sleep. An hour later and Len had been getting antsy. Instead of lying in an empty bed, he sat himself down to do some work at his desk, pencil tapping away as he prepared for the finalities of his upcoming invited break-in to Concordance Research in just a few days' time. They seemed to have a similar duct system design to S.T.A.R. Labs and Len considered sweet-talking his way into poking around. Luckily he was sleeping with its owner so he knew a few ways to get him to say yes. 

His thoughts began to wonder then to Barry, his body, all the ways he’d explored, and all the ways he’d still like to explore the other man. These months with Barry had been the happiest of Len’s life, more fun than his time with the Legends, more satisfying than his array of triumphant scores over the course of his career. He’d fallen hard and fast, feelings that Len didn’t know he was capable of feeling, not after years of burying anything like them down, keeping anyone from getting even close enough to consider anything real or long-lasting. But he knew what he was getting into when he’d sought the man out, knowing what he wanted from his first day back in Central City, even if it took him a little while to go after it, and reaffirmed when he was hugged tightly by a teary-eyed speedster who was so pleased to see him alive. 

But with a shake of his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. How bad did he have it if he was getting distracted by the man when he wasn’t even there? Len tried to focus on the blueprints and forgave himself when he occasionally let his mind wander to Barry’s lips, long legs, the lithe body underneath him, as well as the smile that reached his eyes, that infectious giggle, and all the ways he’d say his name; in ecstasy as they made love, in frustration as he teased him, in a smile when he’d surprise or spoil him. 

“L-Len,” he heard his name stuttered in pain suddenly. Len whipped his head towards the sound of Barry’s voice. There Barry stood in the entryway, no wind or lightning announcing his entrance. He was still in his Flash suit, cowl down, hunched over the kitchen island leaning heavily against it as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Jesus Christ, Scarlet,” Len sprung to his feet and ran over to the hero, slipping his arms around his waist so Barry could shift his weight to Len instead. Len leaned back assessing, adjusting his grip. Barry lifted his right arm to drape across Len’s shoulder, his left pressed against his side, bracing his ribs. There was blood on his jaw and neck, an angry abrasion that looked like road rash, the suit frayed at the neckline where the rest of the scratching disappeared. Other than that it was intact, no indication of any life-threatening wounds but Len knew that injuries beneath the surface could be just as potentially lethal.

“I’m okay, just a little banged up,” Barry leaned into him further, resting his head against Len’s shoulder.

“Barry you’re hurt, I have to take you to S.T.A.R. Labs or at the very least call Snow-“

“No, please,” Barry shook his head against his neck. “I just need to get cleaned up and lie down.”

“Scarlet-“ Len said, hoping his voice was calmer then he felt. Barry pulled away and started to walk towards the bathroom. Len didn’t let him get more than a few steps without him, moving to his right, wrapping an arm around his waist throwing his arm over his shoulders.

“Len, I’m fine. I’m just going to heal anyway, what does it matter where I am,” Barry groaned, exhausted, unable to hide the wince as Len maneuvered himself around him.

“It matters because the labs have IV drips and gauze and equipment to monitor and help you better than my pathetic first aid kit,” he grumbled as they cleared the bathroom, twisting his grip as he eased Barry onto the side of the tub.

“Its a couple of scratches and bruises. I just want to be in a real bed in your arms,” Barry breathed through closed eyes as Len scurried for the first aid kit, coming to kneel on the bath mat in front of where Barry was perched on the tub’s edge. “Look, if I’m not better by tomorrow I’ll go, I promise, but please, I just want to rest and be held and be home.”

Against Len’s better judgment, he gave in to Barry’s pleas. He helped him out of the suit and resisted the urge to throw him over his shoulder and drag him to the labs himself when he saw the swathe of bruising on his ribs, left shoulder, and a closer look at the abrasions on the side of his neck. He said nothing as he helped him into the shower, ran a wet cloth across the scrape on Barry’s cheek and neck, the speedster wincing at the sting. Len gently helped him wash the sweat and dirt off his face, gentle fingers combing his hair back under the calming warm spray of water, massaging his scalp. Barry let him take the lead, washing his body and then wiped him down with a fluffy towel, followed by gentle application of antiseptic to the scratches on his jaw. They didn’t bother with clothes as they climbed into bed, Barry wanting nothing more than to collapse into sleep sooner rather than later. Len lied down beside him, wrapping his arms around him, Barry nuzzling against him. 

Barry didn’t explain what had happened, what he’d been up against, and wasted no time falling asleep in Len’s arms. He watched Barry sleep for about an hour, monitoring his breathing, convincing himself he’d done the right thing before he was satisfied enough to allow himself to follow Barry into slumber. 

Which brought him to now, a couple of hours after he’d initially woken up when Barry began to stir awake. Len had drifted in and out waiting for the other man to wake up but when he felt Barry begin to sir, Len watched through cracked eyes as Barry unfolded his arm to stretch out, the pull on his healing ribs caused him to wince.

“I saw that,” Len accused and Barry turned to look at him, eyes blinking heavily as he slowly awoke, his body shifting to curl up against Len, cautious with his movements which told Len he hadn’t healed completely or slept nearly enough.

“You’re dreaming,” Barry whispered with a ghost of a sleepy smile, kissing the tip of Len’s nose as he burrowed into the pillow they had shared during the night.

Len’s eyes opened up a little more as he turned on his side facing Barry. He reached a hand over and to the barely-there bruising on his shoulder and pressed lightly. Barry’s eyes followed his movements but the pressure didn’t cause him any pain or make him flinch. Thank god for speed healing, even after only the few hours of sleep he’d gotten. If he’d eaten before bed his metabolism would have kicked the healing into higher gear but he had been too exhausted. When Len’s hands traveled down to Barry’s ribs he was rewarded with a slight grunt and a wince. He then reached a hand up to Barry’s neck where the skin was still raised and red but the abrasions on his jaw and neck from the night before were gone. 

“You’re staying in bed today,” Len insisted, running his hand through the tufts of soft hair, taming the locks sticking out in all directions. 

“You know how I feel about being told what to do,” Barry replied, smirked but then winced as he draped his left arm lazily around Len’s waist. “However, even I can’t argue with a good idea.”

Len slid a hand between Barry’s neck and the pillow, his lover turning further towards him and leaning into the touch.

“You’re an infuriating mess, you know that?” Len smiled at him, cupping his neck, thumb gently tracing Barry’s jawline. Wrapped around his finger this kid had him. 

“I’m your mess though,” Barry smiled up at him, nudging his nose with his. 

He was right. Barry was his, he was Barry’s. There was no denying it even if they wanted to. In a single night, he’d felt pride at watching his hero go off in the middle night, mild concern mixed with daydreams and fantasies as he waited for his return, then worry and frustration when he tended to the injured speedster. He felt utter contentment with him in his arms, relief that he was okay, and happiness as they lay in bed till the afternoon just wrapped around each other. He also felt so full of emotions, so completely whole with his feelings and Len realized that this was what life was supposed to be, this was what it meant to be alive. 

__________________________________________________

“Did you work this hard when you were illegally breaking into places?” Barry asked as he came up behind where Len sat at his desk. He was feeling better after spending all morning in bed lazily wrapped in each other’s arms, the scrapes and bruises all gone. It was late in the morning now, and he’d just devoured a large brunch of waffles and bacon and a six egg omelet. Len had been working on the blueprints he abandoned last night after Barry came home injured while Barry took care of his speedster needs. But now that he was feeling good as new, he was interested in taking care of some other needs. 

He slid his arms down Len’s shoulders, across his chest, and hunched over him, draping himself across Len’s back as he nudged Len’s head with his own.

“Well, I have to replace one reputation with another and that means being the best,” Len put down the pen and lifted his hands to grasp at the wrists that wrapped around his chest. “You know how I get.”

Barry couldn’t help the snort of amusement at that. Len was thorough, in every aspect, from break-ins to the bedroom. It was something Barry not only admired but appreciated, especially in bed.

“Ok, but what if you took a break?” Barry suggested hesitantly, gritting his teeth in an awkward smile as he pushed his luck. “Like the whole day kinda break.”

“Is Mr. CSI slash superhero slash owner of S.T.A.R. Labs suggesting I play hooky?” Len teased, amused, as he spun the chair around, Barry’s arms sliding to wrap around his back now as he faced him. Barry climbed onto his lap, a leg on each side of his as Len brought his hands up to wrap around Barry’s waist. 

“Just you and me, no Flash, no blueprints,” Barry grinned at him, seeing Len wavering. It was an enticing offer, Barry’s body healed and unmarried, sweatpants resting low on his hips as he straddled Len’s lap. 

“Well, it is my own company,” Len said without giving it any more thought. Wrapping his arms tighter around Barry’s waist he stood up, a startled yelp and a giggle from Barry who reflexively wrapped his legs tight around Len’s waist as the man carried him over to the couch. 

They had made love right there in the living room for the rest of the morning and well into the early afternoon. Len challenged Barry to a game of chess on the balcony in nothing but their briefs and soon found himself being bested, Barry laughingly telling him that he had been in the chess club in high school, amongst about a half dozen others including anime club.

“I may be old, Barry, I’m not ancient,” was Len’s grumpy response to Barry asking him if he’d ever heard of Dragon Ball Z while also realizing he was about two moves away from potentially having to surrender to Barry’s queen piece. 

They followed it up by taking a walk in Central City Park where they sat on a hill by the waterfront, shoes and socks off, barefoot on the grass while they lounged against each other, Len leaned back against a nearby tree, Barry's head in his lap. It was relaxing and quiet until Barry’s stomach interrupted their tranquility. There was a fleet of food trucks gathered in a circle at the edge of the park, a perfect excuse to try nearly everything and feed his insatiable speedster hunger, from Halal to Tex-Mex, soup dumplings to poutine, Barry was in heaven. They “shared” their dishes, Len enjoyed having a sampling of a variety and Barry’s hunger was satiated. Like in so many ways, how they were different brought them balance. 

Len brought peace to Barry’s life, made him feel like he didn’t have to be the best version of himself, that who he was in his authenticity was enough. Len would tease him for being late but never gave him grief. He worried about him when he went off on Flash business but “threatened” to pull the cold gun on him if he didn’t take care of himself. He’d call him a hero in the same breath he’d call him an idiot. There was no false pretense of perfection between them, no expectations to be anything other than exactly who they were now, together.

They weren’t a perfect couple. They never claimed to be and never tried to be. They were very different men. Len could be cold, sometimes abrasive, and stubborn which often clashed with Barry’s own brand of stubbornness, emotional, and self-burdening with responsibility. But what defined them as the men they were was also what defined them as a couple. They were passionate, determined, and even where they were different, they brought each other into a balance that was delicate and complimentary. Barry had a playful sense of humor, Len a deadpan and sarcastic one. Barry put everyone above him first, he loved people, was soft but strong, a quiet power that sparked through him as much as the lightning in his veins. Len, on the other hand, was a loner, a man usually with a singular mission, hyper-focused and driven to see something through to the end. 

So no, they weren’t perfect, individually as people or together as a couple. By textbook definition, they weren’t even perfect for each other. But they worked, together they thrived, and it made them both feel more alive then they’d ever felt before. And that was saying a lot considering they had both literally died before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Alive" by Darren Hayes


	10. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There’s an energy washing chemically over me  
> I can’t take it anymore  
> Like my destiny running endlessly over me  
> You’re the one I’m waiting for  
> You know that we are the sun and the moon, the stars  
> Every time we touch  
> You know that we are the light  
> And the universe has been changed because we touched"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is some shameless PWP with bondage ;)

Barry stood there, staring at himself in the full-length ornate mirror in the living room. He was naked. His mouth was filled with a large red ball-gag, the one Len first introduced him to just a couple of months ago, the one he grew to crave. His arms were tied behind his back with soft red rope at the wrists, forearms, and elbows. The rope around his forearms was also wrapped tightly around his waist just above hips, immobilizing his arms. 

Barry had fathwoomed into the apartment, coming straight home after an injury-less fight with a meta instead of S.T.A.R. Labs to shower. Ten minutes later, Barry emerged from the bathroom, naked except for the towel wrapped loosely around his bottom half, as he moved towards the kitchen.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind, an arm wrapping around his chest and a hand clamped over his mouth. His attacker forced him over to the kitchen island till Barry bumped into it, forcing Barry to bend over till his upper body pressed down against it.

The hand released his mouth only to yank both his arms behind his back and quickly began winding rope around his wrists. 

“Hey! Len!” Barry yelled, struggling as Len tied his hands tightly behind his back, finishing it off with a tight cinch. “Len-mmph!” With one hand holding his arms still, Len stuffed a red cloth it onto Barry’s mouth as a temporary silencer.

Len ignored the muffled shouts as he grabbed another piece of rope. He fought through Barry’s writhing and grabbed his elbows and wound the rope around them, pulling them slowly together until they were only mere inches apart and cinched it off.

“Nnnnnn-ngh” Barry groaned at the now stretched position his arms were in. He pulled uselessly at his bindings, a delicate and soft cording against his skin but strong and sturdy as the ropes held. And when Len wound more rope around his hips, pinning his wrists to the small of his back, his arms were now fastened securely behind him.

Barry pushed at the cloth with his tongue until he could finally spit it out of his mouth. It was at that moment that Len pulled him up from where he had been bent over the counter and steered him into the living room. 

“Geeze Len, you didn’t have to attack me! All you have to do is ask!” Barry grumbled half-heartedly. He tried to hide his excitement, not wanting Len to know how much he was enjoying the ambush. He was naked now, the towel having fallen off in the scuffle, a stark contrast to Len who was completely clothed, dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Yeah, but what’s the fun in that.” And seemingly out of thin air, Len dangled the ballgag by the strap in front of Barry’s face. Barry reactively licked his lips as Len the ball up to his mouth. He opened willingly, groaning as the size of the ball forced his jaw wide. His lover moved to stand around him, a hand pressing the ball against Barry’s mouth to keep it place as he did. He pulled hard on the main straps of the gag until they dug into his cheeks, around Barry’s head, and buckled it as tightly as possible at the base of his skull, and Barry sunk his teeth deep into the ball, satisfied.

Barry and Len enjoyed playing around with bondage, incorporating it fairly regularly to their activities as an additional level to their intimacy. Len enjoyed doing the tying, the trust Barry put in him as he allowed him to bind him, taking great pride in being the one paying detailed attention to his lover, finding that balance of thrill and ecstasy, softness and challenging his limits. Barry who was constantly flooded with the responsibility of an entire city on his shoulders found extreme comfort and pleasure in being submissive, letting go and giving his trust completely to Len, of his movement, of his pleasure. He craved that feeling of unknowing, a feeling that in his everyday life would make him feel anxious but in Len’s attentive hands felt like a thrilling freedom.

Len stood behind him, his hands massaging Barry's shoulders and neck before slowly sliding them down his chest until he reached his nipples. He circled them slowly with his fingertips then started to massage his pectorals, then moving back to his nipples, taking them between his finger and thumb and squeezing and twisting them. Not hard enough to cause pain but enough to force a groan of pleasure from Barry.

Len slowly slid his hands down his stomach to Barry’s waist, fingers tracing over the rope, then sliding his hands back up his stomach and chest so his hands were once again playing with his nipples, making them hard and sending shock waves to his cock.

“You are so beautiful. Red really is your color, Flash” Len breathed into his ear, hand moving to trace the leather straps of the gag. Barry knew he chose the red gag, the red rope, for a reason. 

Len suddenly reached a hand up to the back of Barry’s head, thread his fingers through his hair and gave a short sharp pull, yanking his head back. Barry grunted as Len leaned his head to glare into his captive’s eyes.

“I saw you today on Channel 52 when you went up against that meta,” Len snarled quietly, his voice deep and menacing. “Standing there, hands on those cocked hips, bickering, bantering, flirting.” 

He let go of Barry’s head and then moved to grab the cloth from before.  
Carefully, Len wound one long end of the red scarf twice across Barry’s mouth between his teeth over the ball gag so the ball was even more firmly wedged in his mouth. The other end of the scarf went round twice also, but this time it was bandaged over his lips and covered his face from just below his nose to the tip of his chin. There was just sufficient left over for Len to tie a very secure double knot at the back of his neck.

“That might keep even you quiet,” Len beamed, leaning back on his legs to admire his handiwork. Len grabbed another piece of cloth from his back pocket, this one black, and stretched it over Barry’s eyes. He tied it tight behind his head, his captive now tied, gagged, blindfolded and ready for Len to play with him as he desired.

Barry knew Len had a jealous streak; not in a possessive or dangerous way. But if he caught someone glancing at his boyfriend, he’d kiss him if they were on the dance floor at a club, move his hand to the small of Barry’s back as they walked beside each other, drape Barry’s arm around his shoulder, little micro warnings to the world that Barry was his and he was Barry’s. 

He hadn’t been flirting with the meta, not even a little, but of course Len would see the quips exchanged between them as such, especially since whenever Captain Cold and the Flash were in the same positions it absolutely was flirtatious. Barry suspected it was just an excuse to slip into a scene, and if that’s what it took, Barry was completely on board.

“Spread ‘em,” Len commanded. Barry complied and spread his legs as Len ran his hands down Barry’s groin, feeling his cock and sliding one hand down to fondle it while the other hand reached around to Barry’s ass. While Len’s fingers felt the back of his balls, his other hand pushed a thumb firmly up into his hole.

Barry moaned as Len continued to pump his thumb as the other hand massaged his cock. Barry was breathing heavily, getting very close, having gotten very hard when Len had manhandled him and tied him up. Len must have sensed this because he stopped his ministrations just as Barry was on the edge. 

“Do not cum without permission,” Len breathed in his ear as he took a length of cord and tied it tightly around the base then around the top of his balls and back round front. Len ordered him to bend over and Barry could hear him undoing his jeans and then felt cool cream being spread around his hole followed by the tip. Len pushed his way inside until his full length was buried deep inside Barry, a delicious moan escaping from behind the ball, beneath the basic as Let bottomed out. Len held it there for a moment then started to slide in and out, slowly at first but gaining such an incessant pace.

With every thrust, Barry gave a helpless, pained moan, his hands clenched into shaking fists behind him. Barry’s muffled moans grew louder with each thrust, his body arching ever so slightly within his bindings. Len could feel his body quiver in an uncontrollable rush of orgasmic pleasure and it didn’t take long before he exploded.

Barry moaned at the pressure and at the urge to cum himself but Len hadn’t given him permission. And Len just held himself inside Barry for a while, daring him. 

“Your cock is swelling, isn’t it?” Len‘s breath in his ear sent chills down his spine as he held him from behind. Barry nodded.

“You wanna cum, don’t you?” 

Barry nodded again, moaning as Len reached his free hand around to cup Barry’s bulge, his dick still inside him. He squeezed slightly and ran his fingers over the trapped shaft. 

“This is mine. I know you get cocky when you’re out there in your skin tight red super suit but don’t forget the body beneath that suit belongs to me. Get it?” Len whispered, his lips brushing against Barry’s ear. 

Barry nodded frantically as Len finally withdrew slowly from his hole, but still held him close. Len was playing up the jealousy, the domination he had over him was making his cock harder, which Barry didn’t think possible at this point.

His chest heaved as he breathed through his nose and strained against the upper body bindings. Barry stretched his neck back against Len‘s shoulder, his flailing hands brushed against Len’s groin. Len felt a rush of heat as Barry reached with his bound wrists and deftly grasped the softened shaft.

He understood the message, the silent reply to Len’s statement. Len was his. Barry may be the one tied up, but in this life they now shared, Len belonged to Barry in the same way Barry belonged to him.

Len stood perfectly still as Barry groped him and felt his manhood bulge fuller. Barry grasped it and started slowly masturbating him. He moaned as Len reached both arms around his body and kneaded and caressed his chest. He rubbed his stomach moving downward to his pubic bone, pressed there gently causing Barry to let out a burst from his nostrils. He massaged his crotch with his right hand while his left stroked up and down Barry’s chest.

Unable to resist any longer, and despite his dominating act, Len really wanted to let Barry come. 

“Remember, you need permission,” Len reminded as he untied the rope around Barry’s cock, his lover nodding as frantically as his breathing. Once Len was finished, suddenly Barry felt himself being spun and then he was being hoisted over Len’s shoulder and carried. When they reached the bedroom, Len lowered him to the ground. Barry stood there, unable to do much else as Len stripped down to nothing. He then guided to him to the side of the big bed and half eased, half forced Barry down onto it. 

For a long moment, they stayed that way, Barry lying back half on the bed, gazing up, blindly searching for Len who was looking down at him with a look of tenderness strangely mixed with triumph. He swung the man’s legs up onto the bed, spreading them apart and settling on his knees between them. 

Like a cat, Len bent over his lover, crawling on his hands up the length of Barry’s body, pressing his belly hard against his, grinding his dick against Barry’s stiff prick, both men groaning at the contact. Len’s hands were pressed against his chest, cold as they caressed and explored up and down his skin, Barry’s muscles twitching at the erotic touch.

Barry used his trapped arms beneath him to push his body up closer against Len’s as he just continued to run his hands across his chest, rubbing his neck, his belly, and his face. Barry squirmed with each touch, moaning at the cot ant and it seemed to Len that for now, Barry was enjoying the possession he had over him.

Len slowly let his hand roam down Barry’s side, squeezing the firm flesh at his waist and hip. Barry was sweating now in arousal and late summer night heat. Len watched a bead of sweat travel down his jawline towards the curve of his neck. Len dipped his head to the exposed throat and captured it before the drop could travel any further and he could feel Barry shiver and heard him pant.

Len planted a quick kiss over the gag where Barry’s lips were and got up from the bed. Barry impatiently waited, craving more of Len’s touch. Barry suspected the craving was so intense because of his lack of sight, unable to predict Len’s next move but he didn’t care, Len was driving him crazy in the best ways.

After a few minutes, Len returned to the bedroom with some ice in a small bowl, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. He swung his leg over his lover’s body, straddling the bound man still sprawled on his back, blindfolded and unknowing of what was in store for him. He grabbed one of the ice cubes and held it above Barry’s chest, waiting for some of the cold water to drip onto his unsuspecting body.

The droplet of ice water made Barry gasp and jerk in surprise, then sudden cold, ice-cold against his chest, the cube right against his nipple, freezing it to a painful firmness. Barry gasped again, his toes curling, his fingers digging into his palms still pinned between his back and the mattress, as the ice was swirled around his nipple, wet drops trailing down his side. It was really only a matter of time before Len tried ice play, especially after the jealousy of the Flash flirting and bantering with someone other than Captain Cold. 

The cheeky bastard left it pressed right against the nipple until Barry found himself squirming against the rope, could feel a bead of pre-come sliding right down the length, untouched and aching for sensation. Len followed his body’s attempt to escape from the stinging cold him with the ice, sliding it to give the same treatment to his other nipple. Len loved to do this, loved watching him shudder apart as every inch of skin received contact. Len has told him he’s gorgeous in his desperate need for touch, and Len always looked at him with a fierce want and lust while he explored every inch of him. It usually sent Barry spinning into a wonderfully powerful orgasm but the blindfold kept him at bay. 

He couldn’t see Len smile as he began tracking the ripples of Barry’s chest and around his nipples with the ice cube, making them rock hard. Barry’s body heat melted the ice quickly, Len licking and sucking the water trail it created. The sensations of ice against his warm skin and the heat from Len’s mouth racked through Barry’s body, sending twinges to his dick. 

Len reached for another ice cube and trailed it down Barry’s torso and stomach. Barry jerked as the cold traveled down to his crotch before melting. Once again, Len licked at the water, taking his time to suck every bit of its trace, before grabbing another ice cube and running it down Barry’s left leg, down to his knee, and then back up his inner thigh till it melted. He then grabbed another cube and did the same to Barry’s other leg, meticulously licking up the trail, enjoying the sensation against his tongue of the goosebumps on Barry’s skin.  
Barry’s body squirmed, following the touch of Len’s lips as he trailed his body with his mouth. Barry loved the gag but he’d give anything right now to have Len’s lips on his instead of everywhere else. His breathing was heavy now with arousal. He couldn’t help but moan loudly as Len made small bites from his calf up his right leg till he reached the top of the inner thigh. He then began to kiss down his inner left thigh till he reached his ankle. 

Len moved up his body, kissing his way along the length of Barry’s lean figure until he hovered over his head, lips brushing against his forehead before kissing a line down over his right temple. He stopped for a moment to nuzzle into Barry’s soft brown hair before nibbling at his neck, causing Barry to stretch to grant him more access.

“You have my permission,” Len whispered before pulling back. And then Len reached into the bowl he had at the foot of the bed with the ice and pulled out the last cube, half-melted, held it in his mouth for a moment and then dived onto Barry’s cock, taking the head of it into his mouth before the ice could melt. 

Barry gasped and arched his back in pleasure, driving his cock further into Len’s mouth as the cold from the ice combined with the heat of his dick. Len tongued the melting ice all around the head of Barry’s cock as he took it all in. The sensation drove Barry wild and Len had to slam his hands down hard on his hips as Barry’s body writhed. 

Within seconds, between the waiting and the teasing, Barry erupted into Len’s mouth and Len swallowed it down with a satisfied moan. Len stayed there with Barry’s softening shaft in his mouth, lapping it all up before pulling away.

As Barry’s chest heaved from his orgasm, Len’s hands started to slowly caress Barry’s bare, soft skin again. Both hands pressed against his chest, moving in slow circles before trailing down his bound arms and between his body and the mattress to take two handfuls of Barry’s ass in his hands, grinding against Barry’s crotch as he held on to his cheeks. 

This time Len’s moan at the contact overshadowed Barry’s gagged one and Len couldn’t wait any longer. He maneuvered Barry to lay on his right side, Len moving to curl up behind him, his bound lover’s back pressed up against his chest. With one arm wrapped around his torso, his other hand grabbed hold of his own dick and lined it up with Barry’s hole. Len pushed in as he pulled Barry back against him, driving his cock in further as they lay on their sides. 

Len pushed, slowly and steadily until he felt his balls resting against Barry's ass. He pulled Barry tightly against his chest and started to thrust, Barry slamming back against Len.  
“Mmmm,” Barry moaned as he was pulled back with each thrust of Len’s dick, the slapping of skin as Barry’s back collided with Len’s chest, his head lolling back on Len’s shoulder. His bound arms were crushed between their bodies, Barry’s fingertips grazing his stomach as Len plunged into him. Len wrapped both arms around him, gripping his chest with one hand and Barry’s dick with the other as he picked up the pace, stroking Barry’s dick in rhythm with his thrusts.

Barry's senses were in overload. The musky aroma from their passion, Len's moans, the calloused hand tightly gripping his cock, Len’s dick filling him, all wound together with his lack of sight, bindings and gag, Barry knew it wouldn’t take long before he would cum again.  
And then Len bit gently into Barry’s shoulder and it pushed him completely over the edge. With a harsh gasp, Barry came in Len’s hand. With the contractions of Barry’s ass around his dick and semen pumping into his hand, with a final thrust Len came inside Barry with a shout.  
They stayed there, breathing hard for a few moments, Len riding him through the aftershocks before pulling slowly out him. Barry felt Len fiddling with the ropes binding his arms to his body, his chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath while he was untied. As the rope fell away, Len gently eased him onto his back, leaning up to hover over him. He slid his hand between Barry’s head and the pillow, lifting it slightly and cradling it as he first pulled away the scarf, then undid the clasp of the ball gag and removed it. Warm lips pressed to his as the gag was placed aside. Then the blindfold was pulled away but Barry kept his eyes closed as Len placed a kiss over each lid. 

"You're so beautiful, Barry," Len whispered. "Especially when you let me take control."

Barry opened his eyes then, reaching up his arms to wrap around Len’s neck and pull him down on top of him. 

“You know you’re my only one right?” Barry spoke, eyes still laden with lust because even though he’d just had two mind-blowing orgasms, been turned on since the moment Len pressed against him when he’d exited the shower, Barry would happily go all night. The power Len had over him, not in the way they made love but isn’t the way Barry loved him was intoxicating. He had him, body, and heart. 

“You’re my only one,” Len replied, hovering over Barry as he hooked a leg over his lover, Barry wrapping his legs around his waist as he pressed their bodies together. He knew Barry had a refractory period of a horny teenager but it would take Len a little bit longer to get ready again. Luckily for them both, he had a few ideas, including kissing each inch of flesh that he had covered with rope before. He loved tying Barry up but there was nothing better than Barry’s hands all over him, exploring, devouring, worshiping Len as much as Len worshiped him. 

He had once told Barry that labels tied them, that couples referring to each other as property made him uncomfortable. Len didn’t want to feel owned, but he understood the sentiment now. It wasn’t about ownership, it was about commitment. He was Barry’s, Barry was his.

Len knew without a shadow of a doubt that Barry wasn’t flirting with the meta from earlier, but he’d been on the other side of that stare down with the Flash and knew damn well that the meta was flirting with him, even if Barry was clueless. So just in case Barry didn’t get it before, Len was ready to make him feel just how much he loved him and to fuck him so hard till he couldn’t even remember the meta from earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Touch" by Darren Hayes


	11. Bloodstained Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the gutter  
> Where you’re starless and blind to dreams  
> We can dream each other  
> To a new day  
> Where the good guys always win   
> And heaven still means something  
> You hit me like a subway train  
> And I will never be the same  
> And darling I’ll follow you down to the ground  
> Even when you fall apart  
> I’ll pick up your bloodstained heart  
> And darling I’ll follow you down to the ground"

It was a shift in the energy of the bedroom that began to rouse Len from his sleep. He had a hypersensitivity to a change in the surrounding atmosphere, whether it was someone entering the room unannounced, a threat approaching, or something not feeling quite right. It was a skill he began to craft as a child growing up in a house that felt unsafe and something he cultivated as he began to exist in a world that made him feel like he had to kill or be killed. He never slept too soundly, a habit that was a result of his self-learned skill of being constantly on the defense, which made him a light sleeper. 

The disruption in the quiet peace of two a.m. felt like a static charge in the air that upon first impression he would describe as a threat, soft pained moans beside him instead of steady breathing. Len’s eyes flew open, his right hand reaching for the pistol he kept secured behind the nightstand and his left checking for the body beside him. He felt the handle of the gun as his hand slid in the space between the wall and the nightstand. What he didn’t feel was the body that had been sprawled across his side when they had fallen asleep. 

Raising up slightly from where he lay on his back, Len looked to his left and saw that Barry was as far away from him as the bed would allow, back to him and facing the other direction, curled within himself, body shaking. 

When they first began sleeping together, Barry would sleep beside him, but on his back. It was a stance that Len recognized immediately for he too slept on his back. It made it easier to spring into action if there was a threat but Len suspected for Barry it was more about being able to throw himself in front of the person beside him rather than self-preservation like it was for Len. Then as they grew closer so did Barry’s sleeping position. As they slept beside each other more and more, Barry’s body positioning shifted, laying on his back with his head on Len’s shoulder or even sharing his pillow. Then that changed to Barry pressed against his side, or on his stomach with an arm wrapped Len’s body. Len wasn’t sure if this was the normal progression for the other man when he had a bed partner or if it was his defenses loosening as they became more involved, feeling safe in Len’s arms.

There were nights Len would wake up at three a.m. because he was overheating in a tangle of limbs as the speedster, who gave off so much body heat, clenched tightly around him, softly snoring in his ear. Len had now taken to sleeping only in boxers, leaving a shirt or pair of pants nearby but knowing it would be far too warm in the bed fully dressed as well as fully embraced. But there were also nights where Len would wake up at three a.m. because the heat wasn’t there, Barry having rolled in the night or gotten up early, sometimes because he required less sleep and sometimes because an alert on his phone told him the city needed the Flash. 

But even though Barry was like a personal heater with the Speed Force purring through his body as he slept, his heartbeat thrumming away quickly even in slumber as his chest pressed against Len’s, the reformed thief felt a sense of peace and dare he say, contentment, with being allowed to hold the man so close. Len would happily wake up in a sweat with limbs numb from being trapped underneath his lover every day for the rest of his life if it meant waking up to a chaste morning-breath kiss before his partner fell back asleep in his arms, a dopey sleepy smile greeting him good morning, or a kiss sometimes leading to where they had left off the night before. 

Never, though, had Len woken up to Barry so distant from him, so pulled away. When he heard the soft and broken cry of ‘no, please’, Len knew it wasn’t him that had caused Barry to retreat, it was Barry’s own mind. 

Len pulled the hand away from where it latched onto the gun and turned on his side to face his boyfriend. He could see a fine sheen of sweat across the speedster’s pale skin, the thin gray sheet barely draped over his boxer-clad hips. Len sat up in bed and scooted closer to Barry’s side, pushing the sheet back as he leaned over the man’s body. Placing a firm but gentle hand on Barry’s shoulder, he pulled slightly to roll him over on his back. The sleeping man offered no resistance, but the furrowed brow, sweat-dampened hair, and rapid shallow breathing told Len that it was because Barry was deep in the throes of a nightmare. 

“No, don’t,” Barry sobbed quietly, his head tossing back and forth against the pillow, hands clenching the fitted sheet beneath him in tight fists. “Don’t hurt him, please.”

“Damnit, Barry,” Len sighed, his heartbreaking a little. Even in sleep Barry still felt responsible for everyone’s safety. He shook the shoulder beneath him. Len couldn’t bear to listen to the broken pleas, the anguish in his voice as he suffered in slumber. He firmly shook the shoulder beneath his hand as he called out, “Barry, wake up!”

With a gasp Barry sprang up, heart pounding, panting as his chest moved shallow and rapid with the short heavy breaths, skin slick with sweat. Len was quick to brace a hand behind his shoulders, the other resting on his heaving chest, feeling the rapidly beating heart as if it was trying to beat through Barry’s bare skin. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Len pressed his hand against Barry’s chest to let him know he was here, trying to ground him and keep him from getting lost in the haze of the after-nightmare. Barry reached his own hand up to clasp the one Len had resting over his heart while the other lifted to rub at his eyes as he tried to calm his breathing.  
Barry clenched his eyes shut, fingers pinching painfully at the bridge of his nose. He swallowed rapidly, not even trying to fight the tears he knew were spilling down his cheeks, his hand gripping the one over his heart like a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered, voice hoarse and deep with sleep and despair.

“Don’t apologize,” Len shook his head, shifting his hand against Barry’s chest to grasp his lover’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss against the knuckles. 

Barry leaned into his touch for a moment before pulling away, hastily wiping at his face trying to brush away the tears as if it would somehow erase the dreams that plagued him.

“I need to go for a run,” Barry’s voice was raw, quiet, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

“Barry,” Len called out as the other man pulled on a pair of gray CCPD sweatpants out of his drawer in the dresser on the far side of the wall. The notion of Len thinking about it being ‘Barry’s’ drawer was ludicrous. Len found Barry’s clothes in his closet, underwear and clothes mixed in his own drawers, sneakers piled by the door. Not to mention the number of times Barry had returned wearing pilfered sweaters or jackets, Len realizing he wasn’t the only thief in this relationship. Barry invaded everything, a physical manifestation of the way he’d invaded Len’s soul and heart.

Len wasn’t sure what else he should say. That he understood about nightmares, that he didn’t have to deal with it alone, that all Len wanted to do was hold him. 

“I’m fine, Len,” Barry insisted, pulling the zipper up on his black hoodie before leaning over to quickly kiss Len on the lips. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

And without the lingering hovering that Barry so often did when he kissed him, Barry couldn’t leave fast enough, even for the Flash, as his lightning briefly lit up the room before leaving Len alone in the dark.

“Fuck,” Len sighed, scrubbing his hands through his buzzed hair. He knew it wasn’t about him, that Barry just needed to process whatever had disturbed him, but Len wasn’t sure how to navigate this. Maybe it was because they’d only just defined this, jumped feet first into something that escalated and spiraled into the greatest thing Len could ever say was his. Not something he stole, but something he was given.

Love. 

And that’s what it was. He loved Barry Allen. And he was pretty damn sure, although he couldn’t figure out why, that the kid loved him back. Seeing Barry clearly hurting, choosing to deal alone, made Len’s heartache. Not for being left behind, but because he couldn’t be there for Barry like he wanted to be. And for the second time since he’d come back to life, he wasn’t sure how to live it. Like his mind coming back to him after being rescued from the time stream, Len was at a loss at what came next and where to go from here. 

He got up out of the bed, moving to the nearby chair in the corner to grab the simple navy heather T-shirt he had pulled off earlier before returning back to sit on the bed. He reached over to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer as he sought the communicator device Raymond had given him before he left the Legends to return to Central City. Somehow it let him video chat with the Waverider no matter where or when they were. Len knew there was only one person he was interested in talking to, someone who had given him the advice he needed to start over before, someone he trusted to tell him what he needed to hear, someone who knew what it was like to love someone they didn’t think they deserved. 

A press of a few buttons and a long pause as the device buzzed and hummed, suddenly the palm-sized device lit up and the face of Sara Lance appeared on the screen.

“Hey!” Sara smirked, adjusting her tablet as she settled back against one of the chairs in what Len recognized was the bridge of the time ship. 

“Captain Lance,” Len smirked back, leaning back against the headboard, crossing his ankles as he stretched his legs atop the sheets. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nah, all’s quiet right now,” Sara said, looking around before leaning back in the chair. “Everyone’s off relaxing after a rather absurd outing involving a magical creature that kind of resembled a mermaid. Mick was disappointed to find out they looked more like manatees than a hot chick in a seashell bra but whattaya gonna do.”

“He does love his mystical mistresses,” Len nodded, smiling to himself fondly. The quiet lingered for a moment as Sara studied his face.

“What’s wrong with you?” She teased, her slight frown indicating her mocking tone was laced with real concern. Len sighed, carefully thinking about the words to say and what exactly it was he was looking to get from Sara before he replied. 

“How did you know for sure that you wanted to give a shot at something real with Ava? That you,” Len paused, gathering the courage to finish his question, “were in love with her?”

“Leonard Snart,” Sara smiled, leaning in towards the video display. “Are you telling me you did it? You actually started something with Barry freakin’ Allen?!”

“What do you mean ‘actually’?” Len scoffed. There was no use denying it, he’d already spent a drunken night with her on the ship that started with all the things he wanted to do now that he was back alive and ended up with him confessing his attraction to the speedster. “We spent a whole night over cards with you prattling on about all the reasons why I should.”

“You mean you spent all night losing at cards prattling on about all the reasons you shouldn’t,” Sara replied with a smile that could only be described as condescending. “Not only did you lose at gin that night but you also lost that argument because it was obvious you were wrong and I was right.”

“Would you just answer the question and spare me the clearly misguided memory of our conversation,” Len rolled his eyes.

“I knew what I felt was real the minute she kissed me,” Sara said, pushing her long blond hair back as she thought of the memory. “But I knew for sure after the death totem incident when I broke up with her to protect her from me.”

“A truly romantic story,” Len couldn’t help but smirk.

“Hey, I’m not the one calling a friend in the middle of the night because he just realized he was in love with a hero,” Sara flipped him off before smirking satisfyingly at the screen.

“I’m not the sentimental type,” Len defended, almost a reflex. 

“The more you say something doesn’t make it true,” Sara replied, no pretense of sarcasm, filled with genuine regret as if she knew the feeling. 

“What if I’m holding him back, keeping him from a life and a person he deserves?” Len admitted, voice quiet, open and honest like that night where they almost froze to death, where he learned he could trust Sara. She knew what it was like to have life push you onto a certain path, a dark one, to fully embrace it only to learn later on that the light inside still existed. And after hearing about her relationship with Ava, it had given Len hope that he too could have a life with someone who brought their light forward just by believing in them.

“Look, Leonard, you and I both know we don’t deserve people like Ava and Barry. They’re as good as good guys get, in and out of heroic duties. And you and I, well we’re us,” Sara spoke, melancholic contentment on her face. “All we can do is try to match their goodness with our love for them. It makes us better people. And if they think we’re deserving of their love, the best we can do is try to prove them right every chance we can.”

Len thought about her words, taking them in for a moment before cracking a joke about wisdom coming with the title of captain. Sara put out the standing invitation to come for a ride along with his boyfriend anytime before they disconnected the call. Putting away the communication device, he caught sight of the clock on the bedside table. 

It’d been thirty minutes or so since he’d woken Barry from his nightmare. Len thought about turning over and trying to go back to sleep but he couldn’t rest, not while Barry was in turmoil. Instead, he got up from the bed and headed toward the kitchen to make coffee. There was no chance of resting now and he had no idea how long it would be before the speedster returned. 

As he moved about the kitchen and set about putting on a fresh pot, Len found himself on autopilot, unable to focus on the task as his mind drifted. He thought about his life, how he'd gotten here, how he’d fallen in love.

People would think he was emotionally repressed but that was by design. If you don’t get attached, there’s less to lose, less for people to take advantage of. But the truth was he felt his emotions just like everyone else. Except he did it privately. Barry though, he usually was as open as a book. Hell, the man was a library. So open for all to see, so honest with his emotions, so willing to lay it all on the line. Which was why Len found Barry leaving after the nightmare so disturbing. The few times he didn’t open up, Barry often began to spiral. Like the night he found the blueprints, his pushed down guilt about Len’s death finally culminating in a fight between them that had Barry practically vibrating in anger. But once they talked it out, as well as other things, they came out the other end stronger. And Len found that to be true with every bit of himself he shared with Barry. Every time he said what he was feeling out loud, allowed himself to feel these things wholly, he became stronger. It also brought him closer to Barry.

He never believed that these things actually happened, the sleeping better with someone beside you, the comforting domesticity and the burning desire coexisting, the feeling of completeness in a way you didn’t know you were incomplete, especially happening as fast as it did. Len wondered if he had known that these things happened, would they have happened with Barry? If he’d have known how deep he’d fall, would he have taken the leap? Coming back after his sacrifice, his time with the legends, having a taste of a better way of life, that gave him the strength and courage to act on those feelings and ideas that Barry Allen had been bringing out in him since day one. 

He didn’t regret what he’d done in his past because it brought him here, practically every night sharing a bed with a man in his arms he didn’t deserve. Barry had told him he’d forgiven him for his past actions, that in order to move forward you have to be willing to let go. It didn’t make it all right but it made it healed, didn’t tie him to those moments and mistakes. What mattered was now, what he did with his present as they moved toward a future, together. A future that was informed by their past rather than dictated by it was what Barry had deemed it. So no, maybe he wouldn’t have taken the leap if he hadn’t chosen the path he did when he joined the Legends. And maybe Barry would still be happily married to Iris if they hadn’t lost their daughter. But those things did happen, for better or for worse, and despite it all, they’d managed to find happiness in finding love with each other. 

Suddenly a spark of lightning rushed through the apartment, the brief sound of the shower down the hall, and just a moment later emerged Barry Allen, clad only in a pair of gym shorts that hung loose on his hips, body still slightly damp, running a towel through his wet hair one-handed as he made his way towards where Len was reaching into the cabinet for a mug. Barry gave him a one-sided, half-hearted smile. Len held out the mug in a silent question to which Barry shook his head, and Len closed the cabinet with the single mug in hand.

As Barry finished toweling his hair, throwing the hand towel over his shoulder he came to stand beside where Len was pouring the coffee. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Barry said quietly, hesitantly. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to apologize for things that you shouldn’t apologize for?” Len responded, looking up at the man, unable to stop the chuckle as he saw the tufts of damp hair sticking out in all directions. When Barry woke up or after a shower, his hair without product, Len always thought it looked as if he licked a lightning bolt. Len couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle the hair, his hand then traveling to the back of Barry’s neck as he pulled him towards him. 

Barry followed without hesitation, their foreheads meeting, looking at each other nearly cross-eyed. 

“You’re okay?” Len whispered the question. 

“Not really,” Barry whispered back. “But I will be.”

Barry pulled away then, Len dropping his hands to reach for the steaming mug of coffee. They both turned to lean back against the counter, side by side. Len nursed the mug between two hands, holding it up to his face while Barry braced one arm behind him as he futzed with his hair. 

“I get nightmares sometimes,” Barry finally spoke, closing his eyes as he tried to tame the damp hair, threading his fingers through it and pulling it this way and that. “Not like I did when I was a kid but enough. I usually wake up before I wake up the person next to me but sometimes...”

“You don’t have to worry about waking me up,” Len said, looking at Barry even though Barry wouldn’t look at him. “And you don’t have to hide them from me. Or talk about them if you don’t want to.”

Barry nodded, finally looking up at Len to meet his sincere gaze, ice blue eyes radiating honesty. Len could tell Barry was struggling with whether or not to open up about what he had dreamed, could see the conflict, and Len suspected it had less to do with Len and more to do with Barry’s own personal demons that made him feel like a burden. 

“How was your run?” Len asked suddenly, shifting the conversation, watching Barry blink away the apprehensiveness and relief take over his features. 

“I did a couple of laps, needed to clear my head,” Barry shrugged, reaching for the mug in Len’s hands, bringing it to his lips with Len’s hands still wrapped around it and taking a sip of the coffee. Typical, Len thought. Time and time again, Barry would decline a cup of coffee but still end up drinking at least half of Len’s. 

“Around the city?”

“Around the country,” Barry half-smiled, Len whistling in amazement. Barry took another sip before moving away from where he leaned back against the counter. He let Len take one last sip of his coffee before taking the cup from Len’s hand and placing it down on the surface. 

He gently grabbed Len’s arms and moved them to wrap around his waist before bringing his own hands up to cup Len’s face between them, letting them rest upon his cheeks, his thumbs gently gliding across the skin, tracing his cheekbones. 

“Thank you for letting me in, letting me be a part of your new life. And thank you for letting me open up to you in my own time,” Barry spoke, voice no more than a whisper. “There’s a lot I want to tell you, things I want to say, but there’s also a lot I need to figure out. Just know that spending this time with you, being with you, has let me feel freer than I have in a long, long time.”

Len didn’t know what to say. All he could do was lean into Barry’s hands as they held his face, kissing the left palm lightly before bringing his hands to meets Barry’s. Entwining their hands he guided them away from his face and leaned in to kiss him deeply, slowly, the taste of coffee dancing on their tongues and that ever-present bit of spark from Barry’s lips. He let Barry’s mouth lead the way, allowing himself to get lost for a bit before reluctantly pulling away, knowing there was something he needed to say before he got too deep and forgot. 

“You don’t have to thank me, and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Len whispered back, that sincere gaze locking Barry’s eyes with his again. “But you also don’t have to run. You can let me be there for you.”

Len watched the water well in Barry’s eyes before he leaned in to kiss him once more, his hands squeezing Len’s in his before pulling away.

“Can we go back to bed? I don’t care if we sleep or stay there all day, I just,” Barry swallowed, blinking the tears away before they could spill over, “I just want you to hold me.”

And Len did just that. He guided them to the bedroom, Barry spooned up on his left side, Len behind him. Nothing was said, just their bodies pressed tightly together. Barry picked up the older man's hand that had wrapped around him and examined it, his fingers tracing the back of the hand. By now, he had explored all of Len's body; the hands fascinated him the most. Len's hands looked so strong yet when they were together like this, they were so gentle. Such a contrast, much like the man himself. Self-confessedly ruthless but he always touched Barry with a delicate reverence. 

After Barry was done exploring the hand with his own, he pulled the arm tighter around him and clutched Len’s hand to his chest; he closed his eyes, content. He wasn’t incomplete before Len, but being with him added an extra dimension to his life that Barry didn’t know he needed but knew he didn’t want to be without, not ever again.

Len could feel the man’s breathing even out as his lungs expanded slowly, feeling it through Barry’s back and against his own chest. Glancing at the alarm clock over his shoulder he saw it was nearly four a.m. now but cared very little for the time. He’d stay here as long as Barry needed him to because if he was being honest, he needed it too. He’d stay here forever if he could. 

_____________________________________________________

“Hey, Barry!” Caitlin Snow greeted as she entered the Cortex. It was about eight a.m., her usual arrival time, as coming in early allowed her the opportunity to get a little work done on her own before Cisco rolled in at nine and Ralph around lunchtime. She used to have Iris here in the morning as well but with the Central City Citizen taking off, Iris was spending less and less time at S.T.A.R. Labs. Caitlin missed the company of her friend but she’d much rather see Iris thriving in her own passion. The person she was least expecting to see at this time, however, was Barry Allen. Considering he had a full-time job at CCPD, he usually stopped by throughout the day but rarely this early and in the past few months he’d been spending less and less of his downtime just hanging around as he’d done in the past. 

“Mornin’ Cait,” Barry greeted, spinning in the chair at the main console to greet his friend, outstretched hand offering her a to-go Jitters cup.

“Thank you! You should come by this early more often,” she smiled, accepting the offered beverage.

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t been around as much,” Barry apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You’re here plenty. The city is finally without a big bad for the first time in a long time, you don’t have to apologize, Barry. You’ve got a job and a life in addition to being the Flash, no one expects you to give up all of your time to be here,” Caitlin said genuinely, reaching a hand out to pat Barry’s shoulder before heading towards the medbay, hearing Barry follow behind her. “And not that I’m complaining, but what brings you here so early anyway?”

Barry didn’t want to tell her it was because he’d been waking up early from nightmares every other night for the past week or so, thankfully only waking up his bedmate the one time as far as he knew, but disturbing enough that he was currently avoiding his boyfriend. He also didn’t want to tell her the reason he hadn’t been around as much was that he now had a boyfriend. It wasn’t that he was keeping Len from his friends and family per se, it was just that he wasn’t quite sure how to share it. There was a jaded past between them all and he couldn’t expect everyone to be as at ease with the notion as Iris had been. But he also didn’t want to lie to one of his best friends so he’d been carefully navigating his answers that weren’t necessary lies by omission, just more life half-truths. 

“I don’t have to go to CCPD today so I thought I’d put in a full day here,” he responded instead rather lamely as he followed Caitlin inside the Medbay, leaning against one of the workbenches as Caitlin started up the monitors. It wasn’t the whole truth but at least it wasn’t a lie.

“Barry, you do know you’re allowed to take a break right?” Caitlin sighed, turning to face her friend. Barry’s self-inflicted guilt was something Caitlin never understood. The man did and gave more than any person could, had lost more than most people would in a lifetime, and had been put through more trials and tribulations than any human could not only survive, let alone thrive like he had. Yet for Barry, it was never enough. There was always something more he should have done, something else he could have tried, or something extra he had to give. 

“I’m fine, Cait,” Barry half smiled back at her. 

“I know you are,” she said, raising a hand in surrender. She took a sip of her coffee before placing it down on the desk behind her, bracing herself for the conversation about to be had, a conversation she’d been waiting for the right time to broach. “All I’m saying is you’re allowed to spend your free time on yourself. Whether that’s getting away, having a stay-cation, or even spending time with someone special.”

He nearly choked on his coffee then and Caitlin bit back the satisfied smile that fought to spread across her face. He quickly wiped at his mouth with the back of his sweatshirt clad arm, eyeing her up and down.

“I don’t...” he stammered, biting his bottom lip before continuing, “I mean, what do you mean?”

“I mean you’re not as subtle as you think you are,” Caitlin finally let the satisfied smile crack, watching Barry twitch nervously, tossing away the empty coffee cup in the nearby trash bin before beginning to pace towards her, arms folded across his chest in his classic self-defense posture. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he winced. 

“A few months ago the Flash answered a call to a break-in at a jewelry store,” Caitlin stated, leaning back against the workbench as Barry looked at her confused. “You left straight from your apartment so you didn’t realize anyone was still at S.T.A.R. Labs.”

“Oh god,” Barry put his head in his hands, sitting down on the edge of the cot in the center of the room as Caitlin moved to stand next to him.

“Yeah, you forgot your comms were on.” It was Caitlin’s turn to wince. 

“How much did you hear?” He groaned, his voice muffled by the hands still covering his face, unable to look at her.

“Um, enough to know it was time to turn the comms off from here,” she chuckled as he groaned again in response. She watched him shake his head before finally pulling his hands away from his face, his expression a pathetic and adorable grimace. “Barry, it’s okay!”

“How is that okay?! How are you okay with this?!” He laughed, incredulously, at how everyone was so damn calm about the fact that he was with Leonard Snart. “Cait, it’s Captain freaking Cold. He kidnapped you, he kidnapped Cisco, he tried to kill me! How are you okay with this?”

“Because you are,” Caitlin answered quickly, throwing her hands out at him. “Barry, I trust your judgment and besides-“

She stopped suddenly, looking up as if she was thinking before looking back at Barry.

“Okay, Frost wants to take this one,” she stated before her eyes flashed ice blue, her hair frosting over and lips taking on that deep sapphire tint. The voice echoed as the entire demeanor of the gentle and controlled Caitlin Snow transformed into sarcastic and aloof Killer Frost. “My turn.”

“Ok, let me have it,” Barry said, hands motioning towards himself before he hung his head in defeat. 

“Who cares if you’re dating Snart?” Frost shrugged. “I mean other than the fact that it’s friggin’ hilarious.”

“You’re serious?” Barry’s head shot up. 

“I’m sorry, who here in this room has kidnapped a member of Team Flash?” Frost announced to no one, looking around the room as she raised her hand. “Who in this room has stabbed the Flash not once but twice? Threatened the life of their friends or loved ones? Aligned themselves with someone trying to kill everyone on the team? Anyone? No? Just me?”

Barry rolled his eyes, slouching with an amused chuckle, hands meeting in his lap as Frost continued to keep her hand raised, addressing a room void of anyone but the two of them.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Barry sighed with a smile.

“My point is you guys forgave me, welcomed me and Caity back with open arms,” Frost said, crossing her arms over her chest. Barry had become more accustomed to the shift between Caitlin and Frost, had taken to trusting both of them almost equally, and took what Frost said as speaking for Caitlin as well, and visa versa. So when she talked, he listened. “Look, being bad is fun, trust me, but people change. And if you’ve got that someone good who keeps you honest, who trusts you, how bad can you really be? I’ve got Caity, maybe you’re exactly what Snart needs to keep him in the light.”

“Thanks, Frost,” Barry nodded at her. 

“Don’t mention it. Besides, feel free to leave the comms on anytime you and Snart want to get a little frisky. Super hot,” Frost winked before she faded away and Caitlin reemerged only to find Barry bringing his hands to cover his face and falling back against the cot with a groan. She couldn’t help the blush spread on her cheeks as she addressed her horrified friend, “Okay, other than that last bit, she’s right.”

Anything else on the matter was interrupted as the alarms went blaring in the facility, Barry shooting up from the bed as he and Caitlin ran into the Cortex. Just as they entered the room, Cisco came running in from the hall, dropping his backpack off his shoulder to the floor as he beat them to the console.

He tapped a few keys on the keyboard and the screens sprang to life with the news feed.

“Reports of a bomb threat have come in from the Central City Museum of Modern Art. Witnesses fleeing the scene reported seeing an unidentified female and male duo carrying large duffle bags and brandishing what appeared to be trigger devices before announcing to the museum visitors, including at least two different elementary school field trip groups, of their intentions. A small explosion inside the building near the front entrance went off just as visitors were fleeing. CCPD is creating a perimeter of the surrounding area, no word yet on if anyone has been hurt.”

As the news anchor continued his reporting, Barry apparently had all the information he needed before the familiar gush of wind and spark of lightning appeared, leaving Cisco and Caitlin in the Cortex. Both took their positions at the console, waiting for Barry to arrive on the scene and ready to be the support in his ear should he need help.

_______________________________

Len hadn’t seen Barry in thirty-six hours. It was strange to think about how for the last few months, he and Barry had become two people who spent most of their time together. If they didn’t see each other they would talk on the phone at least once. And throughout the day whether they saw each other or not they would text. Their conversations would range from deep and introspective to mindlessly trivial. But it didn’t matter what it was, the point was that they were together an absurd amount of time considering the only part of their lives the other was involved with was when they were together. So almost two days without seeing him, with little contact, and Len felt as far away from Barry as he could only get if he was back on the Waverider centuries away. 

Three days ago Barry had woken from another nightmare that Len pretended not to hear but the truth was he heard them all. He heard the pleas, the distressing way he had called out Len’s name. He heard every hitched breath and whimper and it took everything in him to not wake him up, to not reach out to him and pull him close. But Barry wasn’t ready to share and he didn’t want to force him into it before he was ready, didn’t want to feel like he was intruding on something that was deeply private to the other man. So Len would pretend to be asleep, would fold around Barry when he felt the man press himself as close as he could to Len’s side after waking himself up. 

The morning after that night they had kissed each other softly and tenderly before Barry left for the day, leaving Len to prepare for his next pseudo-break in after the head of Concordance Research recommenced his services to Dayton Aeronautics. They’d texted during the day and when Len asked if he wanted to come over for dinner, Barry responded with he had a lot going on the next few days and would be best if he didn’t stay the night. And that was the last they’d spoken, with Len telling him ‘no pressure’ and Barry texting back ‘thank you.’ Len didn’t know which one of them was more responsible for the silence between them, Barry needing his space or Len more than willing to give it to him. 

But now it’d been almost two days and Len was beginning to realize after getting little to no sleep without the warm body pressed against him, with no contact of the skin he so desperately craved to touch, with no stolen moments from the person he had a hard time picturing his life without now, Len had to admit that he had gone soft. The cold, hard villain had fallen head over heels in love with the fastest man alive. 

God, how could he have allowed things to get complicated? Love was a luxury, one Len never sought to steal, unlike money, diamonds, priceless trinkets. Love was a liability; a distraction, pulling focus, and keeping you from being sharp. Love was an anchor, pinning to you one place, keeping you from running when it was time to go. Love was complicated. 

But if he was being honest, the only thing complicated was the concept. Since starting this thing with Barry, it had been anything but complicated. Their dynamic was effortless, their chemistry was explosive, their connection was strong, and their time together was simple. It wasn’t easy, but it felt more natural than anything else. With Barry, love felt obtainable, not a luxury, like Barry’s love was something that belonged to him rather than something he stole. With Barry, love was inspiring not a liability; he felt safer, stronger, better than he ever had felt before. With Barry, love did feel like an anchor not in the way that made Len feel trapped but in a way that for the first time he felt like there was a place for him that he belonged. 

So no, maybe complicated wasn’t the word. Impossible? A challenge? 

Impossible was just another Tuesday if you asked Barry. And a challenge was never anything Leonard Snart backed away from. But since day one, even when they were battling or reluctantly teaming up and even more since they became friends into something more, they never had to work hard to relate to each other. They just understood each other, neither having to think about it; it just happened. And in their newfound relationship, it became even more natural, no longer fighting each other or fighting the pull they felt towards the other. 

With a determined step, Len headed towards his destination. The goggles and cold gun stowed in the holster beneath his utility jacket, leaving the more conspicuous parka behind but still having needed at least some of his uniform for where he had just left. He had a meeting with a former fence of his trying to track something down and to meet out of his persona was impractical, even though there was nothing illegal about what he was trying to obtain. Now that he was done, he decided to head to S.T.A.R. Labs and request a moment of his absent lover’s time to tell him how he felt, to put out there what they’ve been skirting for a while now. 

But as he passed the store windows, the sight of the Central City Picture News feed displayed on one of the tv’s behind the glass of the electronics repair shop had Len stopping in his tracks. 

“Vicki, what’s going on down there?”

“Well, Mike, the Flash has just appeared on the scene. As he approached the entrance of the museum, it appears that the duo inside is more sophisticated than the hero could have anticipated. As the Flash tried to enter the museum an explosion erupted throwing him back at least thirty yards into the police barricade. An officer on the scene informed us he believes the explosive was designed to be triggered specifically by the Flash, the criminal duo having come prepared for the Scarlet Speedster’s arrival.”

“And the Flash, is he alright?”

“He was thrown fairly violently back from the force of the explosion onto the windshield of a police cruiser, officers scrambling to help him, but Central City’s hero does appear to have shaken it off as he regroups with police on how to stop whatever the criminal duo are engaged in inside the museum.”

Len couldn’t help but reach for his cold gun reflexively. The museum was a few blocks away. Looking around the street, his eyes settling on a motorcycle leaning against the electrical pole outside the shop, Len made the decision without much thought. Barry wouldn’t approve of him “borrowing” the bike, but desperate times and all that. 

As he hot-wired the bike, Len knew being seen helping the Flash would change the way the city saw Captain Cold, could change the narrative the city associated with Leonard Snart. It was a calculated risk, being seen helping the Flash would easily tarnish his reputation. He could see the headlines now, “Captain Cold Helps the Flash, Warms Up to the Idea of Being a Hero” or something equally as annoying. Even more, his criminal colleagues, the Rogues, would say he’d gone soft. But there was no use denying it, especially if it meant helping the man he loved. Time for Captain Cold to make his reappearance in Central City.

Len rode the bike at a speed that would make a speedster jealous. It took him just minutes to get to his destination, uncaring as the bike fell to the pavement as he dismounted. Reaching into his pocket to pull on his gloves, the goggles resting atop his head as he strode through the crowded masses, hand gripping the handle of the cold gun holstered against his hip beneath his jacket until he saw the red uniform, the hero politely pushing aside the EMT who attempted to help. Len could see the charred left side of the suit as he walked towards the museum, a hand to the lightning bolt at the ear of his cowl.

“Flash!” Len called out, maneuvering around the blockade and uniformed officers to stand in front of the hero. Barry whipped his head around as Snart approached him, the officers behind him too shocked at his appearance to even consider doing anything. 

“Le-“ Barry stopped, correcting himself as he remembered where they were, “Captain Cold, what the hell are you doing here?!”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he drawled, enunciating the vowels in the way he did at peak Captain Cold performance. His actions may appear out of character to the crowded masses of Central City as he was about to lend a hand, but he may as well maintain the carefully crafted persona if nothing else. “You need help. What does the nerd squad say?”

“The components the explosives are made of,” Barry sighed, an arm moving to rub at what Len assumed were cracked ribs already healing, “Caitlin said it’s too risky to phase through. When I tried, instead of exciting the atoms it destabilized them and caused it to explode.”

“Exciting,” Len couldn’t help it and got the exasperated eye roll it deserved. “So these guys have the place wired so you can’t get in and stop whatever nefarious scheme they have?”

“Apparently,” Barry said, turning to look towards the museum. “But I’ll find a way.”

“That’s the whole plan?” Len mocked, crossing his arms over the chest.

“Save it, Cold,” Barry snapped, not looking as he grabbed two pairs of meta cuffs from the nearest officer and attached them to the belt on his costume. He wasn’t sure if the criminals were metas but he wasn’t taking the risk. “Save it. I already know what you’re gonna say.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” Cold demanded, following him as the Flash walked towards the entrance of the museum. Barry was hesitant to run towards it, afraid of triggering another trap.

“That going in there is reckless and half-assed without thinking it through and its gonna get my stupid hero ass killed,” Barry replied as he continued to walk towards the building, not stopping to turn to look at Len till the last word.

Len just stared at him, his face void of expression with the exception of a judgmental lift of his eyebrow. 

“Look, Len, it’s too risky to send the bomb squad in there,” Barry sighed, far away enough from the police to drop the character and try to appeal to the man. “They won’t stand a chance and we don’t know all that these guys are capable of. Explosives could be the least of our worries.”

“Scarlet,” Len said finally, his voice lower this time. He sought comfort in the fact that their dynamic as their costumed alter egos hadn’t changed even though their relationship had; still banter, still standing toe to toe with the other, but this time instead of fighting with each other, they’d be fighting alongside each other. It reminded him of when they’d taken on A.R.G.U.S, still elements of Captain Cold and the Flash even though they were out of costume, except this time it was elements of Leonard Snart and Barry Allen leaking through their masked personas. It gave Len confidence that they could do this, they could do all of it. 

“Was the whole ‘reckless half-ass’ thing at least close to what you were gonna say?” It was Barry’s turn to cross his arms over his chest now as he smirked at Len.

“Maybe those thoughts crossed my mind,” Len replied, powering up his cold gun. “But what I was gonna say was you’re not doing this alone.”

“No, no, no, no, no, I’m not putting you at risk. You shouldn’t even be here,” Barry said quickly, shaking his head, pushing Len away from him before heading again towards the entrance to the building.

“You just got thrown back ninety feet into a squad car. It got my attention. Do you always get hurt during your daily heroics or is this just your idea of flirting?

“Snart-“

“Seriously, how have you even managed without me these last few years?” Len called out, striding after him, dropping the teasing and switching to deadly serious. “Flash, you’re not doing this alone!”

“The hell I’m not,” Barry turned to face him, walking backward. “Now if you really wanna help you can go to S.T.A.R. Labs, get on the comms, and talk me through the schematics of the building.”

“I’m coming with you,” Len said, continuing to follow the other man.

“Nope,” Barry called back, turning back towards the building as he continued to walk. Len ran up to him, grabbing him by the forearm, stopping him.

“It’s non-negotiable,” Snart shouted.

“Damnit, no!” Barry yelled back, trying to pull his arm from his grasp, but Len wouldn’t budge. “You’ve already died once before from an explosion. I’m not going to let that happen again!”

Len stopped and stared, taken back by the anguish in Barry’s voice.

“Scarlet, that was different,” Len’s voice was quiet now. And suddenly the Flash and Captain Cold game melted away, softening now that they were out of earshot of the cops and crowd. From the bystander, it would like they were continuing their banter, none the wiser of the intimacy between them. 

“So? I still lost you! Before I could even...” Barry’s anguish trailed off and he took a deep breath. “I’m not doing it a second time.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to risk your ass but not me?”

“Yes. Now let go.” Barry pulled again, this time Len released his hold and he started to head towards the building again.

“What about all the times you’ve almost bit it? Those don’t count?” Len called after him, unholstering his weapon as he followed. 

“Different circumstances. Never bombs,” Barry shouted over his shoulder, not turning around.

“Fuck that, Flash,” Cold called back, the edge of their sparring emerging at the hypocritical dismissiveness of Barry, chasing after him. “You think I don’t know about your close calls?! I saw with my own eyes you run up into that giant hole in the sky all those years ago. I saw the CCPN footage of Zoom holding you by the neck, broken and bloody. You are not doing this alone, I won’t allow it. We go in together or not at all.”

“Len,” Barry finally stopped.

“You don’t want me going back to my villainous ways but you also don’t want me partaking in heroics,” Len instantly replied, voice soft but firm. “You can’t have it both ways.”

Barry stared up at him, saying nothing before letting out a sigh. He rolled his eyes, jerking his head towards the building and indicated for Len to follow him. Barry jogged ahead and Len trailed behind him.

By the time Len made it to the wall of debris that used to be the front entrance, he heard Barry speaking to what appeared to be himself, but Len knew it was his team on the other end helping where they could. Barry turned to him as he came to stand beside him. 

“Cisco thinks if you freeze the blockade, it should stop the atoms in the trip wires from destabilizing for me to phase myself through.”

“You mean phase us through,” Snart corrected, waiting for the reluctant nod from Barry before blasting the gun in his hands, coating a thick layer of ice over a six-foot-wide, seven-foot-high section of the concrete rubble in front of them. 

The Flash wrapped one gloved hand around Len’s bicep, ready to grab him and run at the first inkling of destabilization of the wall in front of them. Raising his right hand up, Len watched as it vibrated in the air for a moment, hesitantly making contact with the wall of iced-over debris before his hand disappeared up to his elbow. He looked up at Len with a satisfied grin and in an instant, they were on the other side. 

Len let out a shaky breath. Traveling at super speed was one thing, phasing through an object while also traveling at super speed by far took the cake at weird body sensations. He felt Barry’s hand rub up and down his arm reassuringly before pulling away, walking deeper into the museum. 

“Barry, we’ve tapped into the security cameras,” Cisco said over the comms. 

“Do you have eyes on them?” Barry raised a hand to the lightning bolt on the side of his cowl, scanning the room. 

“One of them is on the third floor in the Asian Art Gallery, I don’t have eyes on her partner yet,” Cisco replied, the tapping of the keyboard heard through the speakers as he paused. “All the entrances are wired with more explosives so be careful not to phase or vibrate as you make you way through.”

“This is sloppy work,” Len hissed as he looked around at the entrance, seeing the destruction left behind by their explosives. “The blatant disregard for the art here is just criminal.”

“Is he kidding?” Cisco asked over the comm just as Barry turned to him.

“For real?”

“Yes for real,” Len replied, genuine shock at the accusation. “I may steal the art but I have always treated it with the reverence it deserves.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Barry couldn’t help the smile before pointing in the direction of the stairs. “Shall we?”

“Thank goodness I didn’t eat before deciding to come to the rescue,” Len grumbled before Barry grabbed hold and flashed them through the museum. 

He set Len down as the Rogue blinked disorientedly and poked his head around the corner to the entrance of the Asian Art Gallery, eyes scanning the section looking for one half of the duo. They watched for a moment as the female half of the criminal pair moved around the room. She danced on the edge of the reflecting pool that featured a large Japanese stone pagoda on each end, eight feet deep with a mosaic glass bottom so that from the floor below in the Abstract Art section you could look up to see the mosaic glass as a portion of the ceiling. She would stop to touch the exhibits just for a moment before what looked like rigging the room in preparation to blow it all to hell. 

“I know her,” Len whispered to Barry. “That’s Mara Thana, or Miss Fortune as she’s dubbed herself, which means the other half of this duo is her brother Seth, or Sir Endipty,” 

Barry tried not to groan as he heard Cisco mumbling in his ear about the bad guys who name themselves always having the lamest names.

“Never heard of them,” Barry whispered back. “Metas?”

“No, just idiots. Third rate thieves, never get caught because they never can finish a job. Something always goes wrong and they have to bail before the cops even get to the scene,” Len said, the obvious disgust and snobbery in his voice making Barry smile slightly. “Couldn’t cut it in Metropolis so they came to Central about a five years ago. She likes blowing shit up and he’s got no sense of what things are worth. Looks like they’re trying to up their game, make themselves known.”

A loud bang and a quake in the building shook them where they stood and they ducked behind the wall just in time as Mara turned to look over her shoulder before she giggled and went back to her work.

“Okay more exposition later,” Barry tensed before turning to Len. “Looks like she’s wiring the place to blow while her brother is already making a mess. I’m gonna go search the museum for Seth.”

He actually rolled his eyes this time when both Len next to him and Cisco in his ear simultaneously corrected him with ‘Sir Endipty.’

“Can you handle her?” Barry asked. It wasn’t a question of Len’s competence, Len knew that. It was of concern. Len wanted to kiss the worry off his face but knew that this wasn’t the time or the place.

“I gave you a run for your money if I can recall,” he smirked, “I can handle a C-class villain of the week.”

The smirk was exactly the response he wanted before Barry flashed away. He pushed the swell of fondness down and put the Captain Cold facade to action. Len peered around the entrance and saw Mara with her back to him, facing one of the art pieces, realizing she wasn’t admiring it but instead drawing on the face of the statue with lipstick. 

“I don’t think that counts as art restoration,” Len announced as he rounded the corner, cold gun pointed and ready. Miss Fortune spun on her heel, the lipstick dropping, raising her hands in the air as she saw the gun. Len was not amused when the immediate reaction of fear transformed as she cocked her hip, snapped her gum, and smirked at him. 

“Captain Cold?!” She all but squealed, her voice high pitched and thick with an east coast accent. “What the fuck are you doing here? Haven’t seen you around Central in ages.”

Her voice was just as shrill as Len remembered and he didn’t even try to fight the eye roll.

“Haven’t you heard? There’s no place like home,” Len drawled, conveying the notion that he was already bored with the conversation. “Now scram witch before the cops drop a house on you.”

“Cute,” she snapped her gum again and Len had to resist the urge to give her a little blast with the cold gun just for the lack of respect for a criminal legend like himself. Kids these days. “Ya know my brother and I are big fans. We considered tryin’ to get in your little Rogues crew.”

“Sorry, not much of a position available for unskilled, uncreative brats,” Len feigned a frown, powering up the cold gun. 

“Wow, you’re as big of an asshole as they say you are,” Mara sneered. 

“You have no idea, sweetheart,” Len smiled condescendingly. “Now you’re making a mess of my second favorite museum in the city so if you could just turn yourself in now and save me the trouble of having to call the boys and girls in blue outside and risk them putting bullet holes in the ‘Eight Famous Chinese Views’ by Sosuke.”

“You’re a snitch now? You’re workin’ with the cops?! We’re criminals, we’re supposed to be on the same team!” As she shouted Len noticed the twitch in of one of her hands, something hidden in her fist.

“I don’t really do teams. I see myself more as a pinch hitter. Now, don’t make me ask twice.”

Len barely had time to finish the threat before the sound of an explosion from the other side of the museum distracted him enough to skew his focus, throwing off his aim for Miss Fortune. She dodged his blast and watched her push the button on the trigger that he now saw clearly in her hand. He barely had time to worry about the source of the other blast, wonder if Barry was okay, or to curse himself for allowing himself to be distracted. A blast from the corner of the room knocked him over, diving to the side as the small contained explosion packed enough force to propel him over the edge of the large reflecting pool in the center of the room. 

His disorientation from the blast made him lose a few seconds, just a moment in midair, and then suddenly the water closed over his head, thousands of air bubbles obscuring his view while he felt a weight heavier than the water push him down deeper into the pool. He tried to push it off of him, tried to push away from it when he realized it was a six-foot stone pagoda sculpture sinking atop him.The multicolored glass floor of the reflecting pool met his back as he tried to twist away from the descending monstrosity, a muffled sound comparable to thunder drowned out everything as the statue struck the bottom, a sharp pain in Len’s ankle accompanying it. 

Len kept his mouth tightly clamped against the instinct to yell at the pain, turning and wiggling in the finite space between the floor of the pool and the curvatures of the sculpture that lay atop his right ankle. Thankfully it did not come down directly onto his leg but instead trapped it between the shape of the piece of art. He pulled and pulled when his leg refused to come free, teeth-gritting in pain, pushing against it with his other leg for leverage, griping at the stone desperately trying to find some purchase to no avail. 

His panic was interrupted suddenly with the sound of something breaking through the surface of the water above him, head jerking up as he saw the Flash swimming towards him. He must have recognized the predicament Len was in because he dove straight for the statue, arm strokes guiding him to bottom of the pool by Len’s trapped ankle. Barry immediately planted his feet at the floor of the pool and pulled upwards at the stone sculpture, Len immediately trying to twist from its trap. But the Flash didn’t possess super strength and this thing was damn heavy. 

Len’s lungs began to burn and he couldn’t fight the panic as Barry pushed off the bottom of the pool and made his way towards the surface. He was only gone a few seconds but felt like an eternity to Len whose vision was dancing with black spots. But Barry dove right towards him, grabbed his head between two red gloved hands and the mask-clad face covered his lips with his own in a tight seal and exhaled heavily. Len shocked at first realized he was getting a deep flow of air with the kiss as Barry closed his lips against his for a few moments before pulling away. Then Barry was gone again, kicking up towards the surface before immediately turning again, finding his way back down to Len. Barry was providing fresh air to his lungs, buying more time to try and get Len free. 

Len released the old air through his nose just before Barry’s lips pressed tightly against Len’s once more, Len reaching out this time to cup Barry’s face between his hands as his lungs absorbed the stream of air Barry’s kiss provided. When Barry pulled away this time he squeezed Len’s hand once before returning to the surface. 

On his third time up, taking a long deep breath of air, Barry came down but instead of trying to supply air to Len so he wouldn’t pass out, Barry went back towards where the sculpture trapped his ankle, braced his hands flush against the stone, and Len watched with tunneling vision and aching lungs as the hands vibrated, a task not easy underwater, to the point it weakened the structure of the rock before it shattered, breaking off into chunks and floating around them. 

Len couldn’t stop the involuntary yell this time as his leg was freed, a wave of pain radiating up the limb. Barry swam to him, hooking his arms around him and pushed up, carrying him to the surface which felt so far away until suddenly their heads broke the surface, both gasping in tandem.

Len could only try to pull in as much air as possible, offering no help at all as Barry let long arm strokes guide them towards the edge of the pool. Enough awareness returned to Len then to pull himself up and out of the water, rolling onto his back onto the floor. He heard Barry say something but couldn’t make out the words as he tried to shake away the spots from his vision. He felt the gust of wind and spark of lightning as Barry quickly dashed away.

The Flash had managed to cuff Seth before he heard the explosion, leaving him for the cops. Mara had nearly gotten away while Len was submerged. Saving Len was his first priority but Barry rushed to cuff her while Len caught his breath. He returned a few moments later and was helping him sit up, Len’s lungs began to slow down in their desperation for air. 

“Are you okay?” He could hear Barry ask when he returned as a hand rubbed up and down his spine. 

“That was one heck of a kiss, kid,” Len nodded, reaching up a hand to squeeze the back of Barry’s neck. 

“Kind of reminds me of our first kiss,” Barry smiled, shy amusement flickered across his features as his attempt at levity tried to quell the anxiety he had felt. Len gave him a funny look before realizing what Barry was implying.

“That is what you count as our first kiss? The bank. You not breathing and me having to revive you!” Len couldn’t stop himself from moving the hand that gripped the back of Barry’s neck to lightly slap the other man up the side of the head. Barry laughed as he tried to duck the blow. 

“I like to think of it as less like I stopped breathing and more like you took my breath away,” Barry smiled, the relief combining with adrenaline to create a playful tone.

“You’re such a dork,” Len leaned in to plant a quick kiss on the Flash’s lips, both forgetting momentarily where they were, who they were supposed to be, and the fact that there was an entire team listening to their conversation over the comms in Barry’s suit. 

“Come on, let’s get you to S.T.A.R. Labs and get your ankle checked out,” Barry said, hooking his shoulder underneath Len’s right arm and raising them gently to their feet. 

“I’m fine,” Len ground through his teeth as he inadvertently put pressure on his right leg. “Finish up here and-“

“Len, please,” Barry interrupted him gently. Len looked at his eyes, saw the request was shrouded in concern, a need to know that he was okay, and Len just couldn’t say no. Not after what just happened, not after being apart for a couple of days, not after Barry’s distressing nightmares calling out for Len to be saved.

Len inhaled deeply, a wonderful sensation after this whole experience, and hesitated for a moment before nodding his acquiescence. The grateful smile from his partner told him he’d made the right call in the long run, even though team building at the clubhouse after nearly drowning was not what he had planned when he decided to crash S.T.A.R. Labs to get Barry’s attention earlier this morning.

_________________________________________________________

Foot braced on the edge of the bed where he sat, Len gently slid the sock over his wrapped ankle, mindful of the bandages that Caitlin Snow had been so gracious to provide. 

“It’s not broken, but you’ll need to keep pressure off it for a week or so. Try to avoid doing anything too strenuous,” she had warned, not a trace of the cold contempt he would expect from someone he had once kidnapped. 

“I can’t believe this,” Cisco had said, his voice housing that bitterness that Len had fully expected. They had been gathered in the medbay, Len sitting on the edge at the head of the gurney as Caitlin wrapped his ankle. Ralph sat at the desk against the wall while Iris stood beside him. Barry sat at the foot of the hospital bed, having changed into his gray sweatpants and navy S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt, just an arm's length from Len but his arms were wrapped around himself in a self hug instead, indicating to Len that he was uncomfortable and he either wanted to be far away from where he was now or trying to keep himself from running into Len’s arms instead. Cisco stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“Cisco, I can explain,” Barry started only to be cut off. 

“Just-“ Cisco held up his hand, halting Barry’s explanation, although Len would have been curious as to what Barry had been about to say. “Just, let me get this straight. You and Snart are...together?”

“Well, there’s nothing straight about it,” Len couldn’t help the quick retort as he smirked. He heard Iris snort in amusement and saw Caitlin’s eyes widen in shock trying not to smile. Barry was less amused as he whipped his head to glare at him.

“Not helping,” he scolded through clenched teeth before turning back to face his team. “Yes, Len and I are together.”

“Len?!” Cisco scoffed. 

“Easy Ramon, that name is reserved for my boyfriend only,” Len just couldn’t stop himself, not even bother trying to hide the teasing tone or the pleasure he was getting from the shock. It wasn’t a word he used often, but Cisco’s reaction was exactly what he was aiming for. 

“Boyfriend?!” Cisco exclaimed, looking around the room trying to understand why no one else was chiming in but based on the expressions on everyone’s face he was the only one who was reacting to the news. 

“Yes, Cisco, boyfriend,” Barry sighed. Len would be lying to himself if he didn’t take a bit of relief that Barry didn’t try to downplay their relationship. 

“I can’t believe this,” Cisco braced his hands at the top of his head. “How long has this been going on?”

“About five months?” Barry winced apologetically. 

“Five months, two weeks, three days, and eleven hours,” Len added automatically. He looked up from his watch in time to see Barry whip his head towards his direction again, but this time it wasn’t a scolding look on his face but beaming adoration. The notion that Len had the time they started this thing between them down to the hour was just so him, that Barry knew he could cite it down to the second if asked. His fondness was interrupted by another outburst from Cisco.

“How have you managed to keep this from us for five months?” When Cisco looked around the room and saw the awkward expressions on everyone's face, the hands raised looking for backup to his outrage dropped to his sides in resignation. “You haven’t kept it from us. Just me.”

“Well, technically, I guessed,” Iris raised her hand.

“And I kinda overheard something I shouldn’t,” Caitlin winced, shaking her head as Len tilted his in question. 

“And I followed Barry one day when they met up for lunch,” Ralph added, all of the heads snapping in his direction. “Hey, I’m a detective and Barry was acting squirrelly. I was...concerned.”

Barry just glared at Ralph, clearly not amused and the awkward moment stretched on for a moment before Len excused himself. Caitlin handed him a crutch to help keep pressure off his injured ankle and Barry had followed him into the hall, begging to let him take him home. Len gave him a kiss on the cheek, told him to take his time to make sure everything was good with his friends and to meet him back at the apartment when he was finished.

Barry returned to the Medbay reluctantly and Len was just about to pull out his phone to summon a Lyft when Iris West-Allen came jogging up behind him.

“I’ll take you home,” she offered with a smile. Len declined as politely as he could without scoffing at her. She just stared at him, amused, as she walked alongside him. “Oh that wasn’t an offer, it was a declaration.”

So Len limped alongside her as they made their way to the parking garage and into her Prius, too tired to argue and more intrigued at the idea of Barry’s ex-wife wanting to give him a ride and what her intentions were.

They rode in semi-comfortable silence initially as they headed towards the apartment, Len not even bothering to give a decoy address nearby like instincts encouraged because no doubt Barry had already blabbed to his best friend where he was spending his nights. 

“I’m not going to give you a shovel talk if that’s what you’re waiting for,” Iris finally spoke up, eyes on the road as she idly turned down the radio till it was barely audible. “I mean, I think you’re well aware of the army of people behind Barry that care about him who could destroy you in any way you could imagine if you hurt him, from Metas to cops to hackers to the Green Arrow.”

“Yes, I’m well aware, thank you,” Len replied, rolling his eyes at the mention of the Green Arrow. He’d heard plenty of stories of Oliver Queen, told in tones of reverence by Barry and amusement from Sarah. He wasn’t impressed by they playboy turned vigilante, thought he was a questionable influence on his speedster, and managed to not dwell on absurd that sentiment was. 

“Right, but I also don’t think I need to give it to you,” Iris spared him a glance, their eyes meeting for a moment in understanding before she continued her focus on the drive. “I know you won’t hurt him.”

“What makes you so sure?” Len couldn’t help but ask. 

“Because there’s nothing in it for you. You’ve known his identity for a while now and did nothing with it. You’re not a ruthless villain anymore and you gain nothing by falling in love with him and breaking his heart. Instead, you have everything to lose,” Iris said with the conviction of a journalist with a slam dunk expose. Len didn’t respond, just slowly nodded as she spoke. “Because you know what he’s worth and you’re clearly in love with him.”

“You’re very observant, Miss West,” Len responded, tilting his head to look at her, eye-catching the sparkly ring on her right-hand index finger as she gripped the steering wheel, the ring he’d once seen before on her left hand. “Or is it still West-Allen?”

“You know our story,” Iris stated after a moment's pause. At Len’s confirming nod she continued. “I’m not a threat to you. Our story has changed and Barry and I can’t go back, not after what happened.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Len said in a quiet sincerity. Iris gave him a small smile in gratitude. 

“I’d be lying to you if I didn't wish what happened to us hadn’t happened. Being with Barry, nothing made more sense in my life than that. But losing Nora, losing the chance to have her in our life again, it broke us. Not the love between us, that’s constant, but that desire, that longing, that feeling of all in, we lost that when we lost her,” Iris paused only long enough to swipe at her left cheek, ridding herself of a tear that Len couldn’t see from where he sat but could definitely hear in her voice as she spoke of the daughter she mourned. “We tried to get it back, tried to heal it, but it was just...gone. And it felt like another death, the grief of losing that type of love between us was devastating. But we had reached the point where we knew we couldn’t go on like that, ignore it, and let it turn in to unhappiness, resentment, or guilt that would tear us apart from each other. And that’s something I could never bear to lose, his friendship. He means more to me than being with him. And he felt the same way. We’re a part of each other, but we couldn’t in that way anymore. I‘d be lying if I said there weren’t days that I would give anything to be that with him again. There is nothing quite like loving and being loved by Barry Allen as I’m sure you’ve become well aware. But that’s not what the future holds for us anymore. Our love has been defined and redefined time and time again. This new definition, this works for us. We’re happier now.”

Len stayed silent as she talked, captivated by her speech, nodding when appropriate, uncomfortable by her honesty yet so very grateful for it at the same time. Knowing her side of this, that it matched completely with Barry’s, it told him he didn’t have to worry about losing Barry to Iris, that she wouldn’t try to steal him away if she suddenly changed her mind about them. Despite the grief and pain of losing their daughter, losing their marriage, both Barry and Iris seemed to find peace with that loss rather than regret. It was clear she still loved Barry but the way Iris looked at him told Len what he needed to know, so different than the way Len had seen her look at Barry when he’d agreed to help save her those few years ago. He saw in her eyes and heard in her words adoration, not longing, love not lust, contentment not regret. 

“I just want him to be happy and I haven’t seen him this relaxed, this kind of happy, I think ever,” Iris continued, a soft smile gracing her face and Len was inclined to believe her words. “We were happy, don’t get me wrong. But this is a different, a kind of lightness I think he gets from being with someone who understands him in the way you do, someone who he doesn’t feel like he has to hide things from to keep them safe.”

“Is that your blessing I heard in between those lines?” Len teased, desperate to add the levity to the conversation, allowing the slight drawl of Captain Cold to creep into his voice. 

“Consider yourself lucky. My dad’s won’t be so easy to get when he finally finds out,” Iris teased right back. “But know I’m on your side and if you need any friendly advice or help with the enigma that is Barry Allen, I’m happy to help if it benefits my friend.”

Len thought for a moment, pondering the offer. She was right when she said there was nothing like loving and being loved by Barry. In this whole world, she was probably the only other person who knew what Len experienced by being Barry Allen’s partner. She’d be a strong ally to have on his side, dare even he say a friend. 

“There is something that I could use your...intimate knowledge on, let’s say,” Len hesitated, not sure if he was crossing a line by asking but the nagging need to inquire was too persistent. “Has Barry always had nightmares?”

Iris sighed, a knowing sigh that spoke volumes to Len that he’d tapped into the right resource. She pulled up to the curb in front of the apartment, throwing the car in park and turning in her seat to face Len.

“Always. Growing up they were very frequent but as he got older they became not as common but just as traumatic,” Iris answered, an empathy in her tone that he could feel clearly. “Sometimes they’re out of nowhere and sometimes something will trigger it; a date, an event, a smell even. He’s been through a lot, before and after becoming the Flash.”

Len hesitated, not sure how much he should share about his experience with them but this was a unique opportunity to pick the brain of someone with first-hand knowledge of the inner workings of his boyfriend, and Len was nothing if not opportunistic. 

“I wasn’t sure if being with me triggered them,” he admitted, meeting her eyes. “Like subconsciously he doesn’t feel as safe as he thinks he does, you know, based on our beginnings.”

“What does he do when he wakes?” Iris asked. 

“When I wake up with him, he won’t talk about it but he’ll let me hold him. When he wakes up on his own, I’ll hear him take some deep breaths, sometimes pace or go for a run, and then he’ll press himself as close as he can to my side until he falls back asleep.”

Len watched as Iris smiled, a relaxed relief washed over her expression. 

“Then I promise you, he feels safe with you. If he’s letting you hold him in his pain, then it’s because he trusts you to make him feel whole again,” Iris reached out a hand to gently squeeze Len’s knee. “He’ll eventually share what’s haunting him, but he has a habit of feeling like his issues are a burden. If he’s letting you ease that grief that means he trusts you to see the broken parts he fights so hard to hide behind that smile.”

Len nodded along, not in agreement but in understanding, thankful for the words and reassurance. If anyone knew Barry Allen, it was Iris West. She’d spent a lifetime with him and understood him in a way that Len never could. And she spoke about Barry with the same reverence he did of her, that unconditional love concept that Barry was so fond of. Why she still wore the ring, why Barry would wear their bands on a necklace; that even though they were no longer together, no longer felt that way about each other, their love escaped definition, transformed and transcended in so many ways, that even separated, they were still there for each other, through everything and anything. 

And here she was, helping Len love a man that she once loved like that. Here she was reaching out a hand to a former enemy, trusting the person she had once loved most in this world in Len’s hands. Len could see why Barry had been so enamored by her. She was a strong, intelligent, beautiful women, empathetic in a way where she was not jealous or spiteful that Len was in love with her ex-husband, but seemed genuinely happy and supportive. He was glad Barry still had her in his life, that tiny feeling of underlying jealousy he didn’t know he harbored towards the woman suddenly evaporating as he saw, from both sides now, that even though they still held on and treasured the time they shared, Barry and Iris’ time as a couple was truly behind them.

“Any other pro tips?” Len smiled, trying to lighten the heavy feeling lingering in the air from the heart to heart.

“Don’t ever call him ‘crazy’ or ‘insane’ or anything like that, even if he’s acting irrationally. He got that a lot as a kid and its the quickest way to hurt him. You can call him out on it but just find other words to express the sentiment,” Iris offered immediately, pausing briefly before continuing with the new thought. She didn’t want to give Barry’s secrets away but there were some things that were important for a partner of Barry’s to know, some key things that could save some hurt feelings or painful misunderstandings. “Barry’s a tactile person. He lost his mom without being able to say goodbye, was trying to reach out to her before he was flashed away from the house. And then he spent most of his life being separated from his father by a piece of glass, unable to touch or hug him. When he first came to live with us he was so withdrawn but my dad and I are huggers and we kind of pulled him out of that. Seeking comfort, knowing you’re there; he’s not clingy, he just wants to be close to you.”

Len nodded at that, knowing it to be true and learning it very early. The open affection and willingness to be close was foreign to him but felt natural with Barry. Having Iris confirm what he suspected already, that for Barry touch was how he expressed his affection, how he grounded himself when scared or nervous, that he took comfort in having him close, it reassured Len that he did indeed understand the man as well as he believed he did. The fact that this was something she thought he needed to know instilled just how important it was so Len took the tip to heart. 

Suddenly a thought struck Iris and she reached for her purse in the back seat. She rummaged for a moment before pulling out two cellophane-wrapped bars. 

“Always carry at least one of these with you. They’re high-calorie protein bars that boost his speedster metabolism. He’s had these powers for six years now and he still sometimes doesn’t eat enough for the amount of speed he uses and he’ll go hypoglycemic. Put them in your bag or coat pocket or whatever. We all always have at least one on us at any given time, even Cecile. But don’t tell him, he’ll just look at you like a kicked puppy if he thinks we all doubt his ability to take care of himself.”

Len took the offered protein bars and thanked her for her kindness, leaving the car with a release of tension from his body he didn’t realize he was holding since Barry’s first nightmare and the comfort in knowing he’d just made a strong ally in Iris. 

An hour later had him freshly showered and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a well-worn Henley that now smelled of Barry. From the sheets on his side of the bed to the clothe’s he’d steal of Len’s, so much of his apartment had taken to adopting the lingering scent that was distinctly Barry Allen; vanilla and cinnamon from his pomade, freshly brewed coffee and a sweet-burned chemical scent from the lightning he created. 

There he sat on the side of the bed, rewrapping his sprained ankle and gingerly pulling on his sock when Barry casually strolled into the room, leaning against the door frame. 

“How’d it go?” Len asked, looking up as he gently lowered his foot to the floor. 

“Turns out Cisco was just mad he was the last to know. Also that he owes Iris twenty bucks from some bet they made,” Barry chuckled, absently picking at a spot on the door frame that had caught his attention. “I explained to him that technically Joe was the last to know. Thank god he wasn’t there otherwise he’d probably lock me in the pipeline till I came to my senses.”

“Until you come to your senses, huh?” Len said, leaning forward, clasping his hands to hang between his knees. “And how long would that be?”

Barry pushed away from the door frame and walked towards Len on the bed.

“I’d be in there forever,” he smiled, coming to stand right in front of where Len sat. He reached his arms out to brace them on top of Len’s shoulders, rubbing slowly as his smile dropped, as did his voice. “I was worried, scared today when I realized you were in that pool trapped.”

“I was worried when I realized that you considered our first kiss to be me giving you mouth to mouth while you bled out at the bank,” Len teased, reaching up to wrap his arms around Barry’s waist. 

“I’m being serious,” Barry chuckled slightly as Len tugged him closer. He could see Barry relax instantly at Len’s touch, Iris’ words about Barry being tactile ringing loudly and Len vowed to himself right then and there to never spare the man of what he needed from him or take for granted the privilege of being the one allowed to hold him. 

“I know,” Len replied, pulling Barry closer to him, pressing his head to Barry’s stomach, arms wrapping around his back as Barry wrapped one arm behind Len’s neck and the other around the back of his head, pulling their bodies in as close an embrace as they could with one standing and one sitting. They stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Len said finally, pulling away, looking up at Barry. “I know your concern for my safety has been...haunting you.”

Barry sighed, indicating with a nod of his head for Len to make room for him on the bed. Len scooted back, swinging his legs up onto the mattress as he stretched out, back propped up against the headboard.

“I guess I’ve been talking in my sleep,” Barry crawled in next to him before flopping down beside him. Len stretched his body and wrapped his left arm around Barry’s shoulder. Barry came to rest against his side, reaching up to wind his fingers through the ones on his shoulder and tucked his head under Len’s chin.

“A bit,” Len rested his head atop the tuft of hair. Len could tell Barry was close to being ready to talk about it but was still hesitant. He didn’t want to ruin the moment between them by pushing him before he was ready. “So what was the bet?”

“Apparently after the whole Christmas thing with Mardon, she and Cisco got chatting and saw some..oh god,” as Barry paused, Len could almost picture the blush spreading across his cheeks but he dare not lift from where his head rest atop Barry’s. “They both saw some unresolved sexual tension between us.”

“And the bet?’ Len chuckled to which Barry just sighed.

“Cisco said we’d at least kiss before the end of that year, Iris bet it would take us years, based apparently on her own experience with of how long it took me to confess my feelings to her.”

“I’m glad you didn’t repeat that judgment call,” Len replied in jest but three years of flirting with the Scarlet Speedster before even trying to court him was long enough. He couldn’t imagine waiting fifteen years to confess his love to him. Which reminded him...“So it would take you forever to come to your senses in the pipeline about us?”

He felt Barry’s body shake in quiet laughter. 

“Forever works for me,” Len said suddenly and he felt the body stiffen in his arms before Barry pushed himself up against Len to hover over him slightly. 

“For real?” He asked quietly, looking expectantly at Len. Len gazed up at him silently for a moment, brushing Barry’s hair back, his hand lingering on the side of his head. “I thought you didn’t do forever.”

“Well, much like with everything else, you’ve changed how I see things,” Len replied softly. “I love you, Scarlet.”

And then Barry looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars, a look Len knew he didn’t deserve. Just like he didn’t deserve to feel this happy, or this man in his arms, or the words that were about to come out of Barry’s mouth.

“I love you,” Barry smiled before leaning in to kiss him, bringing Len back to the moment in the pool where Barry had literally saved him with his kiss. If he was being honest, Barry had been saving him slowly since the day they first met. 

Barry pushed himself to his hands and knees, hovering over his partner as the kiss deepened. Len reached both hands up to cup the sides of Barry’s neck, desperate and clinging to Barry as if he was back in the pool, needing oxygen, needing the life that Barry was providing. His hand slid up to curl around the back of Barry's head, jaw tilting to the right as he slipped his tongue between his lips.

Barry pulled away suddenly, sitting back on his heels over Len’s lap as he pulled his sweatshirt up over his head.

“Careful. My doctor said not to do anything too strenuous,” Len smiled through lust-hooded eyes. The impish smirk Barry gave him, the glint of mischief in his eyes, sent a flutter straight to Len’s heart and deep into his body with an insatiable hunger for more of the man.

“Don’t worry,” Barry winked, leaning in, hovering just an inch over Len’s lips. “I’ll try to go easy on you.”

____________________________________________________________________

It was a shift in the energy of the room that woke Len. He rolled over drowsily, an arm reaching automatically for the body that had been pressed against him when they dozed off after making love. 

But Barry was sitting up, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed with hands threaded through the back of his skull tangled in his hair. The stream of light from the drawn curtains reflected the fine sheen of sweat across Barry’s exposed flesh. Len pushed himself onto his elbow and reached a hand to grab for Barry’s in his hair, gently prying the fingers from their hold in the broken strands and lacing them between his. 

Barry turned his head to look at Len as he entwined their hands and Len could now see the evening light entering the room reflecting the tears as well. 

“It was Savitar,” Barry whispered. Len just squeezed the hand in his. 

“Come here,” he replied. 

Barry let him pull him down to him as Len shifted till their bodies met halfway in the middle of the bed. He placed his right hand on Barry’s hip as he gently tugged the smaller man so that he was pressed up against his chest. His left arm slid between the mattress and up Barry’s back as Barry wrapped his own long arms around Len, burrowing his head into the crook between Len’s neck and the pillow. Len curled his hand back into Barry’s hair, tucking him under his chin, while the other ran soothingly up and down his spine with a light touch as he felt Barry’s fingers dig into his shoulder blades, clinging in desperation just short of being painful.

He heard the hitch in Barry’s breath and knew the younger man was crying. But Len didn’t shush him, didn’t whisper words that meant nothing or false sentiments of things being okay. He just held him, hands rubbing small circles against his back and delicate scratches with fingertips into his scalp. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, the alarm clock on his nightstand currently behind him. But the breathing evened out, the tears he no longer felt against his collarbone, and the soft sounds of distress quieted. But he knew the man well enough now to know he hadn’t fallen asleep. 

“These nightmares are the reason you’ve been avoiding me these last couple of days?” Len asked softly. A moment passed before he felt Barry nod his head ‘yes’ against his chest with a small movement, the soft tuft of hair beneath Len’s chin brushing against the skin of his cheek. 

“I should have told you,” the voice, quiet and thick with exhaustion and from crying, spoke from his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Len replied. And he meant it. Barry didn’t owe him anything, least of all to share his demons. He wanted him to, but more than that he wanted Barry to want to when he was ready. 

And Barry was ready. He pulled back from the embrace until they were laying on their sides facing each other, arms entwined, eyes locked. He told him who Savitar was, how he’d come to be. Len always saw the darkness that lay dormant inside of Barry but never thought he would be capable of the things Barry described to him that an evil time remnant from the future had done. But knowing Barry’s past, Thawne, Zoom, betrayals and pain, and then to lose everyone he loved and held dear, he could see it pushing anyone to a breaking limit. Especially Barry Allen, a man who felt everything so deeply, who loved and trusted so wholly. It would destroy him.

“I keep seeing you, dying, being killed,” Barry said, voice small.

“They’re just dreams,” Len rubbed his hand up and down Barry’s arm.

“They’re not though,” he heard the voice crack, Barry moving back to press himself against Len’s chest. Len wanted to pull away and look at him but couldn’t bear to loosen the embrace that Barry seemed to need, arms impossibly tight around him. “They all happened. The Reverse Flash killed my mom in our home. And then Zoom killed my dad and threatened to kill Joe...and then Savitar almost killed Iris. This all happened but in my dreams it's happening to you.”

Len ran his fingers through his hair soothingly as Barry talked. Len could feel the long eyelashes brush against the skin of his neck as Barry cried, the small warm breaths as Barry sobbed and talked against his chest, shoulders shaking under Len’s arms. 

“I know now that the future me didn’t push everyone away because he didn’t want to be near them, he pushed them away because he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else after losing Iris,” Barry pulled in a stuttering breath. “But not me. I still keep them close, still put them in danger by loving them. And now I’ve fallen in love with you and put you in danger too.”

And there was the trigger. Barry realizing he’d fallen in love with Len brought these nightmares out, memories of every terrible thing Barry had witnessed at the hands of others in his life being twisted into visions of the man he loved dying. If Len didn’t know any better, he’d think the lightning bolt not only gave him super speed but super guilt.

Len wanted to tell him that he wasn’t responsible for everyone. He wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous, that none of those deaths was his fault. But he knew what Barry was saying. Loving someone was a liability, something Len himself had sworn off because liabilities made you weak. Until he died. Until he realized he wasn’t living for anything. Until he realized what he wanted to live for. 

He lifted his head from where it rest upon Barry’s, moving his hand from his hair and gently grabbing Barry’s chin, tilting his head up so he could look in his eyes.

“Listen to me,” Len said softly, gaze unflinching, willing Barry to not just hear his words but feel them. “If anything happens to me, know it was worth it. These past few months, being with you, call me sentimental but its made everything I’ve been through in my life worth it. Every pain, every struggle, my father, prison, dying, its all worth it because it led me here to you.”

The hold Barry had on him loosened slightly as he pulled away just enough to look up at Len fully. Len however barely unfolded around Barry, wanting to reassure the man that he was safe in his arms, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever. 

“You don’t understand how special you are, how truly amazing you are. I told you once your goodness is your strength. It’s not your powers that makes you a hero, it’s your heart. You’re like the goddamn sun, Scarlet, and I didn’t realize I was living in the shadows. Being with you, being a part of your life, its worth every damn thing that happens.”

“That sounds a lot like unconditional love,” Barry sniffed and Len sighed at the smile that cracked through Barry’s features. He knew what Barry was referring to, a conversation in the kitchen before becoming entangled in each other’s arms where Barry professed an unyielding belief in the concept of unconditional love that Len tried to refute. But looking into these green eyes, feeling the warmth of the body in his arms and spreading throughout his own body as if his heart pumped blood through his veins only for that sole purpose, Len could no longer disavow the idea of unconditional love. And he knew now that love wasn’t a liability, a weakness, because he’d never felt stronger in his life than he did with this man beside him.

“Well, you’re a terrible influence,” Len replied softly, his thumb stroking the chin still in his grasp. “As I said, you’ve changed everything.”

“You said forever earlier, right before you said-“

“I love you,” Len finished, echoing his earlier words.

“I’ve pushed people I care about away before out of fear for their safety, told lies to protect them,” Barry spoke, bracing his hands against Len’s chest, feeling Len’s heart beating beneath his palm as his eyes looked unblinkingly at Len’s. “I don’t want to do that with you. I won’t. And even though Iris and decided it between the two of us it was for the best after Nora...it still broke my heart, and I can’t go through that again. I love you too much and I need to know...I need to know that when things get difficult we’ll keep fighting and not with each other, when everyone says no we’ll say yes. Either we’re both in this together, all the way, or we’re not in this at all.”

Len let his hands travel, fingers tracing along his jawline, “I’m in this for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I’m in this forever, Len.”

“Forever works for me, Scarlet.”

And before Len could say anything else Barry pressed his lips against his. It was tentative at first, as if Barry was afraid that Len would suddenly change his mind, but Len couldn’t stop this even if he wanted to. 

He had meant it when he said that everything in his life felt like it had led him to this. They were inevitable, like this was always where they were headed. Ever since the forest where Barry had peeled off his mask and Len told him he knew his name, mouth curled in an easy smile that had taken his breath away. And now, with every kiss, it was giving him breath, feeding him life, creating a purpose. He didn’t know love could exist in his world, but it felt like throughout all the chaos they’d each gone through, it was designed to lead them here, in this bed, tangled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Bloodstained Heart" by Darren Hayes


	12. Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You teach me how to feel, I feels all right  
> There’s nothing left to fear  
> Finding myself the further I go  
> Towards you  
> You teach me how to love parts of myself  
> I hated for so long  
> Loving myself  
> Through loving you  
> I know longer live like a man in the dark  
> Hiding all the pieces of my broken heart  
> Way up high, I’m holding on to you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lovemaking in this chapter

Len carefully balanced the four pizza boxes in one hand, a large brown paper wrapped rectangular package awkwardly tucked under one armpit, as he made his way towards the front door of the apartment. He fumbled with the keys for a moment, wishing he could just phase through objects like his partner. As he managed to let himself in he threw the keys one-handed onto the nearby entrance table and kicked the door shut with his foot. 

“Hey, Len,” Barry greeted from were he sat on one of the stools at the island between the kitchen and living room. “Need help?”

“Nah, I got it,” Len slid the pizza boxes on top of the island counter and removed the large package from underneath his arm. 

“What’s that?” Barry asked, sparing him a glance before returning to whatever he was looking at on his laptop.

“Something for later,” Len dismissed, leaning it up against the wall before reclaiming the pizza boxes and heading towards the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you home till later, babe.”

“Babe?” Barry looked up, smiling.

“Too saccharine?” Len asked as he placed the pizzas in the oven, turning it on low to keep them warm. He hadn’t even realized he said it. It had just come out so organically it didn’t even register until Barry pointed it out.

“Not at all, honey,” Barry teased. Len walked around to where Barry sat, coming to stand beside him.

“How ‘bout ‘sweetheart’?” Len asked, leaning down for a kiss. He could feel Barry smile against his lips before pulling away. “Baby?” Another kiss. “Hot stuff?” 

Another peck and Barry was now chuckling against his lips as he kissed him. Barry liked the playfulness of the terms of endearment, in fact, he’d take any of them over being called kid, something that took a couple of months into their relationship for it to finally all but disappear. The truth was he loved that Len called him Scarlet. He used it as a name, something special for him that only Len called him. It made him feel loved, like when Joe and Iris called him Barr, a simple nickname he’d never been called before, Barry already short for Bartholomew. It was something they had started after they took him in, after they became a family, and the nickname created a sense of belonging. He got the same feeling when Len called him Scarlet but if his boyfriend was willing to get affectionate with random pet names, the man who claimed to not be overly sentimental, Barry was not going to deny him that little engulfment. 

“I could get definitely get behind ‘baby’ if you greet me like that each time,” Barry responded, one more quick kiss to Len’s lips before turning back to the laptop. “Back to your previous statement, Flash business wrapped up earlier than expected so I thought I’d come home and do what I needed to without Cisco trying to distract me.”

Len spared a glance at the laptop screen and saw that Barry was looking at real estate listings. Confused at first, he quickly realized the implications. 

“Oh shit, the lease on the loft is up soon isn’t it?” Len smacked himself in the forehead. They’d talked about it a few times, Len promising to help him look for places when they had some spare time, but something always interrupted them; an alert for the Flash, a phone call from the Legends asking about breaking into someplace, that spot behind on Barry’s neck that just begged for Len’s attention. For two highly functioning adult men, they were easily distracted, especially by each other. 

“Two weeks. I totally forgot about it until Iris made a comment to Caitlin about renting a moving van. So it’s time for me to buckle down and figure out what comes next,” Barry sighed. Len moved behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on Barry’s shoulder as he hovered behind him and observed the screen.

“You’re looking at houses?” Len asked, surprise evident in his voice before he once again was distracted by the spot on Barry’s neck, lips brushing against the skin.

“Stop.”

“Stop, what?”

“You know what,” Barry sighed, trying to focus on the laptop screen in front of him. As the distraction continued still at the task at hand, attacking his neck with his lips, Barry couldn’t hold back the laugh as reached up to swat him away. “Len, stop!”

“Killjoy,” Len mumbled, pulling his lips away but nuzzling further into the side of Barry’s neck, wrapping his arms tighter around Barry’s waist and pressing up against his back as if a koala hugging a tree. “So houses?”

“I don’t know, I’m just exploring my options,” Barry sighed again. “I just don’t want to rush into something and two weeks is going to go by really fast.”

“So stay here,” Len chimed in and he could feel Barry stiffen beneath him.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Barry turned in his seat, Len’s arms loosening around him so his speedster could turn to face him.

“You practically live here anyway, Scarlet,” Len reasoned. It was true. Barry had a key already, barely stayed at the loft anymore, spent most nights with Len, coming here between CCPD and S.T.A.R. Labs to change or relax, spending their time together. “Stay here. Even if it’s only till you find a place of your own if that’s what you want.”

“You sure? I can be messy at times and you’re a neat freak,” Barry smiled up at him impishly.

“Oh, I am already well aware of that,” Len sighed. Barry had a habit of leaving a trail, whether of clothes, plates, whatever. He wasn’t a slob but compared to Len’s tidiness, it was like Barry was leaving breadcrumbs so Len could always find him.

“And I eat a lot,” Barry added. 

“You did just see me walk in the door with four large pizzas, did you not?” Len teased, rolling his eyes. “You also leave the lights on, you never put the toothpaste cap back, and you steal all the blankets just to then throw them off in the middle of the night. Anything you’d like to add?”

“Your feet are always cold, that’s why I take the blankets!” Barry defended with an accusatory glare. 

“Not what I meant, brat,” Len pinched his side, causing his boyfriend to try to flinch out of the way. 

“Yeah but you lo-ooove me,” Barry teased, beaming up at him, drawing out the word ‘love’ with a mocking amount of syllables before pulling Len down for a quick kiss.

“That’s it. I take it all back. Get out,” Len said dryly, starting to pull away but Barry giggled and he just couldn’t stop himself from leaning in to kiss the younger man tenderly. 

“Thanks, babe,” Barry said sincerely, the pet name spilling out of him now without a thought. Len kissed him on the cheek, all teasing aside, and let Barry continue his search while he grabbed the pizza from the oven and a couple of beers. No need for anything so formal as plates when his speedster boyfriend could pack away two full pizzas on his own. He set them up at the island, giving Barry a warning look to close the laptop, the matter being settled for the moment as they ate and chatted. 

“So. Houses.” Len brought up, peering over his beer bottle across the island. Barry paused mid-bite into his sixth slice of pizza and looked up at his boyfriend.

“Not into the idea of a house?” Barry asked, lifting an eyebrow curiously. 

“I’m just surprised you are,” Len shrugged, watching his partner’s face for tells in his expression to indicate what he was feeling. 

“I don’t know, I was looking at apartments but I kept wandering over to bungalows and rowhouses. I’ve always wanted a home of my own,” Barry sighed, putting down the slice of pizza as he spoke, picking at the toppings absently as his gaze wavered from Len to off to the side, lost in a memory. “I got taken out of the only home I’d ever known when my mom died. And then came into a home that wasn’t mine, even though Joe’s house ended up becoming the most at home I’ve ever felt in my life, but it was still someone else’s home-in-progress. And even when I got the loft for Iris and me, it was building a home for her, the home of her dreams that I wanted to give her when I was so scared about how much time we had left together.”

“So you want a home of your own?” Len nodded, thinking he understood.

“It's hard to explain. I know home is who you’re with, not where you are. I’ve always felt at home with Joe and Iris and even at S.T.A.R. Labs, they’re all my family. I’ve just always wanted that place that’s mine, that I created for myself. Does that make sense?” Barry explained, eyes lighting up suddenly as he expressed the notion to Len, who had misunderstood. And Len nodded because it did make sense to him now. 

For Len, it was about finding a home, something he never really had. He had a feeling of family with Lisa and Mick but got his first taste of what a home could be with the Legends. But not until he began falling for Barry did he realize what home felt like it, finding it in the arms of his lover.

But for Barry, who had known home with the family he was born with and the family that saved him when everything fell apart, it was about feeling that safety and comfort, of belonging and permanence. So much had changed in his life, lost so much. He was starting a new life for himself, something that had no ties to being the Flash or the Allen’s or the West’s. For the first time, he was getting an opportunity to really try to build that idea of home on his own. Len could understand why he’d allowed himself to get distracted, bouncing between ideas because of uncertainty.

“I always kinda liked the idea of a house that needs to be fixed up or renovated for the life I want to build in it,” Barry paused, looking expectantly at Len for a moment before continuing, “For myself and my partner if he’s interested.”

Len gave him a small smile in response. He felt privileged for even being considered in this fantasy scenario of Barry’s. He hadn’t hesitated when offering Barry to live here with him, hoping he hadn’t encroached on Barry’s search for the home of his dreams but was relieved to know Barry had him in his thoughts when searching for his ‘what comes next’. 

“I’ll clean up,” Barry volunteered, getting up from the stool. When Len didn’t immediately feel the whoosh or static of Barry using his powers to clean like he usually did for chores, his thoughts of the future were distracted when he looked up and saw that Barry was limping slightly as he made his way around the island.

“What happened to you?” Concern struck him suddenly. 

“Oh, it was just this fire. I fell through one of the floors and got a piece of rebar stuck in my calf,” Barry said, glancing down at his left leg before shrugging up at Len. 

“Oh, is that all,” Len mocked, coming around the island.

“Len, I’m- hey!” Barry exclaimed as Len suddenly hoisted him off his feet with an arm around his back and the other looped underneath his knees. Barry wrapped his arms loosely around Len’s neck, holding on as Len carried him bridal style to the bedroom.

“Just a piece of rebar,” Len muttered under his breath as he unceremoniously dropped Barry onto his back on the bed with an ‘oof’ from the younger man. Len leaned over him and yanked down the sweatpants to a slightly amused ‘hey’ as his lover made no effort to resist. 

Once Len had removed Barry’s pants, he climbed onto his knees onto the bed at Barry’s feet and gingerly reached out to touch the bandage wrapped calf. 

“Len, it’s fine, I promise. In an hour it’ll be completely healed without a trace,” Barry tried to reassure him. “The good news is it's my left calf and I’ve already been stabbed there twice so no biggie.”

“Twice? Barry Allen, I have explored every inch of you, thoroughly and repeatedly I might add, and I have never seen a scar there,” Len couldn’t keep the concern tinging his voice in what sounded like anger, like Barry had somehow been holding out on him. But Barry knew he was less mad at him for being so nonchalant about being hurt than he was at the fact that he’d gotten himself hurt again. 

“My cells regenerate too fast for there to be scars,” Barry replied and the thought hadn’t occurred to Len before. And like a lightbulb going off he looked to Barry’s left thigh and saw nothing but unblemished pale skin. He suddenly reached for the bottom hem of Barry’s T-shirt and Barry allowed him to lift it over his head, laying back now in just his briefs as Len crawled over him. 

Hands reached out to the right side of Barry’s torso above his hip, tracing the path of the bullet wound he remembered so well but saw no trace of the injury. His fingers then traveled up to Barry’s left shoulder and fingers felt behind where he remembered the entrance wound clearly and felt nothing but taut skin over firm muscle. How had he not thought of this before? Not a trace of the bullet wounds from the bank six months ago.

“The only scars I have are from before the lightning,” Barry said, reaching a hand out to cup Len’s cheek. There was a melancholiness in the way he said it and Len didn’t need to question it. His own body was covered in scars, from his youth, criminal exploits, stupid mistakes, and epic stories. He was proud of them because it meant he survived. They told his story, was a roadmap of his life, where he’d been and what he lived through. With everything that Barry endured, he couldn't imagine what it was like to not have those proofs of survival, something that reminded you of what you experienced and reinforced your strength. 

“It’s like it never happened,” Barry tried to smile up at him and Len knew he felt how he imagined he would. 

“Tell me them,” Len requested, looking at his eyes intensely. “Tell me the stories. Start with the ones I can see and then tell me everyone I can’t.”

Len saw the uncertainty in Barry’s expression. Len eased back off him from where he hovered over him and got up off the bed. He removed his own pants, pulled his own shirt over his own head before returning to the bed. Down to just his boxers like Barry, exposed and vulnerable so that Barry wasn’t alone as he asked him to expose even more. 

Len climbed back onto the bed, swinging a leg over Barry until he was straddling his waist, hands reaching out to cup the sides of Barry’s neck. 

Barry pointed to the obvious one on his forehead from when he was sixteen and he and Iris had crashed Joe’s convertible. When he finished the story Len leaned over and kissed the raised flesh atop the forehead. He did the same to the small faded white line on his right shoulder after Barry told him the brief story of the scar from a tree he’d been climbing when he was seven. The next story was from eight years later about a fifteen-year-old Barry Allen who, for a brief moment, stopped seeing the light in the world.

“It wasn’t always easy for me. Even with Joe and Iris who I loved, I struggled growing up. Watching my mother taken from me so violently, being ripped from my home, not growing up with my dad, no one believing me and everyone thinking I was the son of the man who murdered his wife in front of me,” Barry told, eyes not meeting Len’s as he recounted the story of the three inch long horizontal mark on his forearm just below the bend of his arm. “I suffered from PTSD, night terrors and depression came in waves. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore, I just wanted the pain to stop so I tried cutting. It didn’t satisfy me like I wanted it to. And the thought of Iris or Joe finding me if I tried again and went too far, them having to live with that void like I did with my mom...I couldn’t do that to them, they were everything to me. I never tried it again.”

Len’s lips lingered a little longer than the others on that scar after that story. He’d never dabbled with self-harm growing up but knew Lisa had taken to cutting when she was a teen. He understood the desire for the pain to stop, for trying to take control of it, but much like he had scooped up Lisa, begging her to stop, to stay, he hoped that since he wasn’t around for younger Barry that at least Joe or Iris had been there to do the same. 

“That’s it,” Barry had breathed, shaky, unsure how to feel about being the center of Len’s razor-focused attention. He was used to it in a lovemaking capacity, Len’s attention to detail a strong asset in the bedroom that Barry thoroughly enjoyed. But this was different, this was a type of vulnerability he’d never experienced. He healed fast so the pain was temporary. He didn’t often have to think about what his body just went through. But he always remembered them, how he got them, what he endured, and had nothing to show for it. And sometimes the flashbacks would come or it would rain and he could feel the twinge and remember the agony and not being able to see it’s aftermath sometimes made him feel like it never happened, like it downplayed his experience, like it was all in his head. 

“Tell me about the ones I can’t see,” Len palmed his left cheek, thumb stroking the two moles underneath Barry’s left eye. Like constellations in the sky, Len knew how to navigate Barry’s skin as if he was an astronomer, able to map out every mole from memory. The two under his eyes were his favorite, second maybe only to the one that sat just above the right dimple in Barry’s back, a small one just above the indentation over the where his pelvis and spin met above the right cheek. He adored the pale, freckled skin and wanted to know every time the beautiful milky flesh had been marred. If the world couldn’t see what Barry had gone through, had survived, Len at least wanted to be able to acknowledge his strength. 

Barry lay back as Len’s hands traveled across his body, massaging and rubbing, not innately sexual but intimate, soothing, almost worshiping as he told him the stories of his injuries that would have left a mark, would probably have caused irreparable damage or killed him it hadn’t been for his powers. 

Len traced the jagged line down his chest with his lips that Barry had just drawn with his own finger, tracing the path of the Lichtenberg figure Barry had never seen it himself, only in photographs that healed before he woke up from his coma. Len’s hand traveled to Barry’s upper left thigh as he told him of the large piece of shrapnel from a helium tank trying to take down the Atom Smasher at the Flash Day celebration. Len’s fingers kneaded the flesh with one hand while his mouth trailed feather-light kisses along the inside of his thigh down the leg until his lips met the top of the bandages wrapped around his current wound. He kissed it once for the new injury and twice for the two times Barry was stabbed there by Killer Frost.

“After Zoom broke my back, he stabbed me in the stomach at super speed with one of his claws,” Barry pointed to spot on his torso below his rib cage on his right side. He inhaled sharply, the sensation almost ticklish, when Len kissed the spot he pointed to tenderly. He let his lips hover over the skin as he moved up to Barry’s right shoulder, at the clavicle when Barry told him about Savitar’s blade. 

When Barry moved his arms from his side to reach for his lover, Len grabbed his hands and lifted them up over his head, fingers entwined, pressing them into the pillow as he leaned in just inches from his face. 

“Let me worship you, baby,” Len whispered, bending close, so close Barry could feel the warmth of his breath over his lips and it sent shivers down his spine. He could definitely get used Len calling him that, especially when he said it like that.

Len was looking down at his companion with an expression that made clear to Barry that this was a fierce and overwhelming need for him. Barry felt his own emotions heighten in response to the strength of Len’s desire to make him feel special, to be seen, to share in his story. 

So he stayed pliant and still as Len kissed at a patch of skin to the side of Barry’s neck from a bullet that hadn’t had the opportunity to completely pierce the flesh when Peek-a-boo’s boyfriend shot at him from behind. He inhaled sharply and exhaled deeply when Len moved to the other side of his neck right at the collarbone where one of General Eiling’s micro-fragments had dug deeper than the rest that had littered his body. 

“Did I miss anything?” Len asked, eyes piercing as he looked down at him. He noticed the slight hesitation before Barry shook his head and knew there was an injury he wasn’t telling him. Len pulled back slightly, releasing the clasp of his left hand to Barry’s right and moved it to cup the side of Barry’s neck. Was it too close of a call whatever injury story he was hiding? Was he embarrassed, was it difficult to talk about, or trying to spare Len’s feelings? “Tell me.”

Barry swallowed, eyes never wavering from Len’s as he moved his right hand to above his hip on the same side. He bit the inside of his cheek before he finally spoke, voice quiet.

“Third-degree frostbite.”

And for the first time in their entire relationship, Len felt something he swore to himself he’d never allow because he’d built his life on calculated decisions and rationale. For the first time in a long time, Len allowed himself to feel regret. 

He didn’t move to kiss the invisible scar, unseeable to the eye but not imaginary, not like it never happened as Barry had said. Instead, he glided his left hand across Barry’s stomach to come to rest over where the patch of skin had been hit with a blast from the cold gun at their first encounter, where it had nearly frozen his blood vessels solid and permanently damaged the nerves. The warm hand massaged the spot while he felt Barry squeeze his right hand still clasped together on the pillow beside Barry’s head and he leaned down to kiss, not the injury, but the man. 

Hesitant and soft at first as Len covered his lips with his. 

Tender, apologetic. 

But Barry reached his free hand up to wrap around the back of Len’s neck and pull him down hard against him. 

Desperate, forgiving. 

Barry devoured him with his mouth, coaxing Len’s tongue to slide along Barry’s and they only stopped when they could barely breathe anymore. Even then they stayed like that, hands pulling each other closer, parted mouths pressed together and inhaling the exhales of each other.

Len’s hand traveled slowly from where it had covered the spot on Barry’s hip, dipped between the waistband of Barry’s briefs, and found his cock. The speedster moaned softly against his Len’s lips, the sound muffled by Len’s tongue as he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. 

He ran his long fingers slowly up and down the stiff shaft, palming the swollen tip lightly at each pass. He smiled against Barry’s lips as he felt his lover’s dick swell even harder beneath his touch and the man himself arch up against Len’s body on top of him. 

Len ground his own boxer clad cock against Barry’s groin, this time Barry swallowing Len’s moan as they kissed, his thumb flicking across the head, palm smoothing down the shaft, rhythm building frantically.

”I love you so much,” Len breathed into Barry’s open mouth and the body beneath him pulled tight, then folded in on itself. Barry gasped his release against Len’s mouth. His left hand squeezed the one still entwined with Len’s while his other gripped the back of Len’s neck as he rode out his high, hips bucking up and cock twitching as it erupted in Len’s grip. 

Len stroked him a few more times, then moved to lay his hands across the trembling muscles of his stomach, watching his lover come down from his high slowly.

”You’re incredible,” Len mused quietly as soon as Barry’s breath had slowed again and his eyes opened.

“Your turn,” Barry breathed, smiling dopily and kissed Len again, all soft lips and fluttering breaths.

“It's not about me tonight,” Len shook his head, leaning down for another kiss. 

“But I want you,” Barry nudged his nose against Len’s before his lips reclaimed his. 

Len pulled back then, and one-handedly, his other still entwined with Barry’s, pulled down Barry’s boxers, The younger man lifted his hips to help while his free hand pulled at the waistband of Len’s enough till his cock was exposed, full and hard. 

Barry's legs spread to allow Len easy access. Len's arm went around his waist and pulled him close. He wrapped his legs around Len's waist as the older man pushed slowly into his body, laying atop him as he entered fully. When Len started thrusting, the movements small but going deep, Barry automatically tried to arch his back in pleasure but Len's weight kept him pinned down. So he settled for arching his neck. 

He felt Len start to suckle his throat and he put his hand on Len's head to hold him there. He thrust his pelvis up as much as he could, matching Len's increasing tempo and creating as they both succumbed to the pleasure. His cock was fully erect even after the handjob he just received and was trapped between their bodies, the friction as it bounced between the flesh of each of their stomachs felt so good and it took all of Barry's willpower to prevent himself from coming too soon. It was slow, agonizing and wonderful as Len thrust into him with long, deliberate strokes, rocking Barry back and forth across the bed with each push, beautiful friction on his own cock between there bodies. 

With a moan, Len pushed himself deep inside Barry and stilled, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin of Barry's neck as he came. The slight pain pushed Barry over the edge and he gasped Len's name as he came for a second time.

They lay there for a few moments, Barry lazily caressing Len's back as they came down from their orgasms. They finally unclasped their entwined hands by Barry’s head as Len shifted to the side. Laying on their backs on the bed, heads turned towards each other as both their breathing slowed down. 

Len maneuvered his boxers back up over his waist before moving his left arm from where it draped across his chest to lay beside Barry, leaning over he spread his right hand across Barry’s cheek as he lowered himself to kiss Barry deeply. He continued to rub at his cheek for a moment as he gazed down at him. Barry leaned into the touch and followed as Len wrapped his left arm behind his back and rolled Barry to lay on top of him, kissing him lovingly on the lips, hand massaging the back of Barry’s scalp.

“I love you,” Barry smiled. 

“Move in with me,” Len said in response. Barry just blinked at him in surprise.

“You already asked me that,” Barry chuckled, looking down at the man beneath him. 

“No, I invited you to stay with me,” Len shook his head, fingers dancing up and down Barry’s spine as he held him tight. “Now, I’m asking you to move in with me, to live with me.”

“I don’t follow,” Barry questioned as he folded his arms over Len’s chest, resting his chin atop his forearms. 

“This place was just somewhere to live. It didn’t become a home until you came along,” Len palmed the side of Barry’s neck, hand splayed across his jaw. “I don’t care if it's here, if its one of those houses you were looking at. Live with me. Move in with me, wherever that may be. I can’t rest when you’re not beside me, not in my arms. I can’t sleep without your warmth pressed against my body. I can’t settle without the feeling of your rabbit paced heart thudding in your chest as it's pressed against mine. Waking up without you is like a day without the sun rising. It’s not a real morning if I don’t wake up to your hair standing up in every which direction. It’s not a start to my day unless you steal my coffee instead of getting a cup of your own. I don’t care where we are, I just want to be with you.”

Barry smiled down at him softly, leaning into the hand against his cheek.

“I want that too,” he responded, bending over his arms to press a kiss against Len’s lips. They discussed moving Barry in within the next two weeks completely and then looking at houses together to build the next chapter of their lives.   
For Len, it was the idea of finding that home he’d never had. It started with inviting Barry to be a part of his life, holding him in his arms for the first time and the prospect of that becoming something more permanent thrilled and terrified him in a way that rivaled and surpassed his greatest heists. After searching his whole life, he’d finally found a home in Barry’s arms.

For Barry, it was building something that was uniquely his own, his own path and own life that wasn’t dictated or predestined or already in progress. It was in his control, it was something he chose for himself, with someone he chose for himself for the simplest reasons. Len fit into where his life was now and where he wanted it to be headed, helped guide him into exactly what he didn’t know he needed after everything he’d been through. Len filled that place in his heart that made him feel homesick after breaking up with Iris, after losing Nora. Barry knew home and love his entire life, and he’d found it again with Len.

“So what’s that package you brought home?” Barry smiled mischievously, changing the topic, and trying to lighten the emotion that hung between them. Little did he know, the emotions were about to get heavier. 

“That, my love, is for you. I’ll go-“

And before Len could finish the thought, suddenly the weight of his lover was gone in a flash as Barry sped out of the room. Len barely had time to sit up in bed before Barry returned. And in a blink, Barry had wiped them both down with a wet towel, quick clean up after sex was just another perk of dating a speedster. Barry was back again in another blink, dressed in his sweatpants now, sitting on the bed with his legs crisscrossed beneath him and the large brown-paper wrapped package between them. 

“You didn’t steal me an original Jackson Pollack did you,” Barry smirked, the weight and shape making it obvious it was a piece of artwork.

“You’re more of a Rothko than a Pollack, Scarlet,” Len teased back, unable to stop the pounding in his chest at the anticipation of the unwrapping. He wasn’t sure what to expect. It had taken him weeks to track down, a visit to some of his old fences as Captain Cold to help get it, even though there was nothing illegal about it. 

He watched as Barry gently tore away the paper in strips, his face an expression like a kid on Christmas until the paper was all but torn away. His expression shifted immediately, confusion and disbelief as he glanced over the cherry-wood frame to Len in shock before looking back at the artwork in his lap. 

Barry’s eyes welled up immediately as his fingers hovered over the painting. It was a beautiful scene that was clearly from the waterfront, a spot underneath a tree in the park where his mother used to jog to clear her mind. His mother loved the water and would take him there for picnics when he was a kid where they’d sit under the tree with sandwiches or get hot pretzels and sit looking out across the water. 

His fingers hovered down to the bottom right corner where, in fine white paint, was his mother’s signature. He recognized this painting from where it had hung on the wall in the hallway upstairs in the old Allen residence. 

“I’m trying to track down as many pieces as I can but-“ 

“God, Len,” Barry interrupted, putting the painting gently aside before surging towards Len, wrapping his arms around him. Len let out a slight grunt as the full weight of Barry was thrown onto his lap and he wrapped his arms around him reflexively, a hand tucking Barry’s head against his shoulder. 

Len could feel Barry’s shoulders shaking, could hear the hitches in his breath as he whispered ‘thank you’ over and over. He just held him for god knows how long, didn’t try to pull away to look at his face, to kiss him, to speak to him. He just waited till Barry was ready. It’d be at least a half-hour before Barry pulled back just enough to press his forehead against Len’s, taking in a stuttering breath before speaking.

“Thank you for giving me a piece of her back. I can’t...” Barry squeezed his eyes shut briefly, a fresh tear finding it’s escape before his eyes opened again. This close, Len could see the blue in Barry’s hazel eyes so clearly that shone through when he cried, unlike the brown that burned with lust, or the green that shone in joy. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Len reached a hand up to brush the backs of his fingers to stroke his cheek.

“This is my thank you. For letting me be a part of your life, taking a chance on me,” Len whispered, feeling the moisture gather in his own eyes as he got swept up in Barry’s emotions, in his love for this man. “Letting me love you, loving me back. For the first time in my life, I know what having a home feels like. If I can give you a piece of your past to bring into your future, a future I very much want to be a part of, it feels like maybe I could be worth that love you give, that love you inspire.”

He could never again deny that he was a sentimental man. Maybe it was just because he had no reason to be sentimental before but being in a relationship with Barry Allen sparked every sentiment he could ever imagine; refined feelings of tenderness, desire, adoration, emotional idealism, hope. 

“You are worth loving,” Barry whispered back. “You don’t have to thank me, you don’t have to do anything other than keeping being the Len I know, the Len I love.”

Barry tilted his head and pressed his lips against Len’s, his hands pressed against hi neck, settled between his legs as Len’s arms wrapped around his waist. Len could feel the smile in his kiss as he pressed his soft warm lips tightly against his own. It was a soft, unhurried kiss, a melding of hearts and bodies with that warm and comforting feeling one could only describe as feeling right at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Feel" by Darren Hayes - this is the song that inspired the whole idea of this story, I'd go as far as to say it's the anthem of this entire work


	13. Don't Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don’t give up on our love story when you can’t go on  
> Don’t give up, always dark before the morning when you can’t go on  
> You be a brave heart, I’ll be a lion’s roar  
> And love surrenders to win the war  
> And I wanna run away from this  
> But I never leave a sinking ship, no  
> Without you in it, there’s no point to our story  
> And I can’t believe it’s come to this  
> All our secret codes and battleships, no  
> Without you in it, there’s no point to our story  
> Don’t ever let me go"

Barry’s foot bounced against the floor of the crime lab almost in time with the butt of the pen as it tapped rapidly against the file he was studying. He was trying not to glance at his phone’s black screen as if willing it to spring to life, the beginnings of grumbling in his stomach a small reminder that it was time to eat again, not quite the incessant urge that it would rise to if he didn’t feed himself within the next hour, were not helping the anxiousness that sparked through his body. 

It was almost his lunch break, although for Barry this would be meal four of the day, but thoughts of eating weren’t what was on his mind. He had texted Len a couple of hours ago about coming with him to an open house during his break but had yet to hear back from the man. It wasn’t so unusual, Len wasn’t attached to his phone like most people, but Barry really wanted to scope out the open house for a bungalow in New Brighton that had never been renovated, needed a lot of TLC on the inside but appeared to be in good structural shape. 

This would be the first house he would be looking at in person, having been sharing the apartment now with Len for a few weeks since he and Iris left the loft. Iris had settled nicely into her new apartment in the same building as Caitlin’s, which they had said made wine night a lot more convenient. Barry on the other hand was enjoying living with Len, so much so that he was eager to start their next chapter together in their new home. But Barry just kept coming up with excuses to not look at houses; CCPD, Flash stuff, helping Iris move, just wanting to be lazy with his boyfriend, anything but go house hunting. Len had been helpful and scoped out a few places that they’d looked at online on his own while Barry was working. But Barry kept dragging his feet.

He knew this was what he wanted; a home, a place to call his own, a future to build with the man he loved. He had no second thoughts on any of it. It was just that this was it. He felt it in his bones. This was where his life was headed, this was the destination he’d been looking for, the ever-elusive happy ending. Much like beginning a relationship with Len, the fact that he was having zero doubts was what took him by surprise. Even when he began dating Iris, someone he grew up with and knew everything about him, in the beginning, he was scared that he wasn’t enough. She was out of his league even though she never made him feel that way. But Barry wanted to convince her, give a hundred reasons to be with him, for no other reason than he was afraid to lose her after wanting her for so long. But then he mellowed as they settled into their life together and it was good. But it didn’t last. Not after Nora; not after knowing they would never have their Nora again, even if they had another child together. 

But with Len, it was different. There was no pretense, no pressure, no predetermined destiny hovering over them. They’d seen each other at their worst, were experiencing each other at their best. It was effortless even though it wasn’t easy, it was as sexy as it was safe. It was a word he’d been afraid of his entire life. Contentment. He used to think that contentment meant settling, not happy enough. He’d felt the heaviest of griefs early in his life so Barry believed the opposite of that was what he sought, joy. But life in extremes nearly destroyed him too many times to count, whiplash making him dizzy from living life at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. And now in a life he never imagined, with a person he hadn’t planned for, Barry found himself in a state of contentment. It allowed him the ability to feel all the emotions he’d experienced in the extremes but at smaller doses, a smaller swing between happy and sad, a more calming state of satisfaction. He could breathe without waiting for the other shoe to drop. He could just be and live in the moment, which was surprisingly difficult for a speedster. 

He spared a glance at the framed photo on his desk, one of his favorites of him and Iris taken from the last family vacation they had gone on with Joe. It was right after Barry had graduated from Central City University and Joe had taken them to a cabin on the lake a few miles north outside of the city. They looked young, gleeful as they sat by side, and it made Barry smile. This photo had been in the lab since he started working at the CCPD, had been displayed in their loft, and even after some beautiful wedding photos, it still remained Barry’s favorite. And though they were no longer a couple, Barry never once considered taking it off his desk. It was there before they became a couple and there it would stay, just like the place he had in his heart for Iris. 

But with that, he wished he could put a photo up of him and Len. They didn’t take a lot of photos but Barry had a couple he’d managed to convince his boyfriend to smile for. Well, a smile might be an overstatement but at least he got him to look at the camera with that damn smirk on his face that Barry alternated between wanting to smack off or kiss off. 

Barry dropped the pen and reached for his phone. Opening his images folder, he selected the photo that was his current favorite. It was a lame mirror selfie, Barry holding the phone up and Len pressed up behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, chin resting on Barry’s shoulder with a smug look on his face and Barry beaming. It had been taken in the lounge area of some super exclusive nightclub that Len had convinced him to go to, wanting to give Barry a taste of the nightlife out of his red costume. There was something so simple about the photo, so basic and normal in its image considering the fantastical nature of their lives, their alter-egos outside of being a couple. 

It was their alter-egos though that were why he couldn't display the photo on his desk, not sure his co-workers would be too keen on a photo of Leonard Snart on display at the police department that wasn’t a mugshot. But even more than that because honestly, Barry didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought, it was the fact that he hadn’t told Joe yet. Everyone else in his life knew about him and Len except for Joe and Cecile and they had been gracious enough not to spill to the patriarch of Team Flash. He wanted to tell him, had tried more than once, but something kept stopping him. It wasn’t exactly conversation he was looking forward to but Barry hated feeling like he was lying to Joe. He was so unsure about how Joe would react to him dating a reformed criminal, thinking it would probably go just about as well if not worse than when Joe found out Iris was dating his partner all those years ago. To make matters worse, he couldn’t imagine how he was going to take being the last to know and six months later. 

It hadn’t been by design keeping Joe in the dark. He had wanted to see where it went before revealing to everyone that he was seeing Len. Then he wanted to explore how deep this was going to go when they started spending more and more time together. By the time they were calling each other their boyfriend or partner, Barry had honestly gotten so wrapped up in his new normal that sharing it with everyone had become a low priority. 

And if he was being completely honest with himself, Barry knew he wasn’t keeping his relationship a secret because he was ashamed or afraid. He’d spent his whole life chasing tall tales of the impossible, telling stories of a man in lightning, he’d learned to stop caring about what people thought long ago. He had kept Len a secret because he wanted something to himself. So much of his life was shared, his family and friends and the Flash, it all overlapped. He loved it, loved his life and his world, but just for a bit, he wanted to have something that was just his, something he didn’t have to explain or justify or try to make fit. What took him by surprise was just how effortless Len became such a big part of his life. It made it clear to him that he knew that one day soon he wanted Len to overlap and welcome him into that world. But for a little while, it was nice keeping him all to himself. 

“Hey, Allen, we need help processing a perp,” a voice interrupted his musings. Barry looked up and saw a uniformed rookie by the name of Carter standing in the doorway to the lab. Clicking out of the image of him and Len on his phone, Barry put the device on the table and stood from the bench. 

“O’Neill and Jackson are both busy and Detective Rowell said you could help out,” she added as he followed her out into the hall.

“Of course he did,” Barry sighed. Didn’t matter how busy he was, how many other CSI techs there were in the CCPD, or even that Joe was now the Captain of the precinct, Barry was still their gofer. On the flip side, it was flattering, knowing they trusted him and his work to do stuff that wasn’t normally inside his realm of tasks, to be considered the go-to resource. More than the flattery, the biggest perk was the privacy of the old lab while the rest of the CSI’s used the state of the art crime lab on the lower level. However, it also lead to the rest of the CCPD treating him as if he was Google, always willing to answer their questions or provide resources despite his own responsibilities.

“The kit’s all ready for you and he’s cuffed,” Carter said, stopping outside the door to the holding room. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

Barry nodded his thanks and headed into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks though as he entered the threshold and caught sight of just who it was he was supposed to be processing. 

“Scarlet,” Len smiled. The fucking bastard smiled up at him, the smallest of waves from where his hands were cuffed to the bar on the metal table. Barry quickly closed the door behind him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Barry whisper-yelled, moving toward the table. 

“Well, I thought I’d drop by and surprise you but I got detained,” Len cocked his head, the smile turning sarcastic at Barry’s question.

“For real? You’re making smart ass jokes?” Barry threw his hands up to interlock behind his head, turning away from where Len sat. 

“Fine. I’m being accused of robbery and murder,” Len said, the smile dropping, sincerity taking over his expression. Barry dropped his hands and turned to look at his boyfriend across the table, studying him for a brief moment before standing up just a little straighter. 

“You didn’t rob or murder anyone,” Barry responded.

“That didn’t sound like a question,” Len squinted at him, confusion evident. 

“It wasn’t. I know it wasn’t you,” Barry said, moving closer to the table, not close enough to touch him like he wanted to. If he touched him he could compromise the integrity of the processing of Len due to them being involved and Barry was not taking the risk.

“How are you so sure?” Len asked finally.

“Because I know you. And that’s not you anymore,” Barry replied, voice strong in its resolve but soft in its care of the sentiment. 

Barry could see the impact his statement had on Len immediately. Len’s posture sunk and face relaxed as if his body was holding in the tension, unsure of how Barry would respond. Barry couldn’t blame him, based on how he jumped to the conclusion when he saw the blueprints at the apartment a couple of months ago. But that was based on Barry’s mistrust of things going right, not his mistrust in Len. And for Len, he was so rarely offered unqualified trust.

“I couldn’t have done it anyway. It happened two nights ago around 8’o clock,” Len said in response after a few moments. 

“That was Sunday. We were at dinner together,” Barry nodded, following along with Len’s timeline. “Why didn’t you tell them you had an alibi?”

Len looked at him wholly for a moment, genuine shock at Barry’s question before answering in a lowered voice. 

“I won’t be the one that outs you to your colleagues. To your dad.”

It was Barry’s turn to sink into Len’s response, gratitude radiating at the consideration. Len was willing to risk leaving it up to the cops, the evidence, the system to absolve him rather than reveal his connection to Barry without permission. 

“Stay here,” Barry smirked, holding a hand up, doing his best not to smile as Len looked at him with exasperation, rattling the cuffs against the bar in response as Barry went to open the door to leave.

“Scarlet,” Len called after him.

“Len, when they come to talk to you, tell them the truth,” Barry turned back to face him. 

“Barry, you could lose your job,” Len tried to reason with him. His unspoken words telling Barry that it wasn’t worth it. Barry gave him an earnest look, needing Len to understand that he meant his next words. 

“There are more important things,” He said before turning back to leave the room. Closing the door behind him, he took a deep breath, allowing himself a moment before heading towards the bullpen, certain of the steps he was taking to where he needed to go but the outcome of where his next steps were going to lead him was unclear. 

“I didn’t touch him or process him. I need to speak with the Captain,” Barry informed as he walked past, leaving a perplexed Carter behind to keep an eye on the suspect. 

Barry resisted the urge to super speed to Joe’s office, the urgency of wanting to get his lover out of here as soon as possible being pushed down by the need to keep the anonymity of the Flash’s involvement. His long legs and large stride would have to suffice as he made his way through the precinct. 

“Joe,” Barry called out as he entered the office, seeing Joe leaning up against his desk with an open file and Detective Rowell standing in front of him. “Can I have a minute?”

“Did you process my suspect, Allen?” Rowell questioned. 

“No, you’re going to have to have someone else take care of it. I need to talk to Joe,” Barry replied, trying to keep his face blank, void of the emotions raging inside of him at the moment. Rowell eyed him up and down suspiciously while Joe gave him an appraising look. 

“Go ahead, Detective. I’ll be with you in a few minutes,” Joe said finally. Detective Rowell nodded his head before walking past Barry, closing the office door behind him. 

“Why did they arrest Snart?” Barry barely waited for the door to close completely.

“Two nights ago there was a murder at a jewelry store. Snart is a person of interest. I know the Flash has a deal with him...”

“This isn’t about that. He’s innocent, Joe,” Barry interrupted. 

“Look I know you wanna see the good in everybody, but the victim was frozen solid,” Joe handed the file to Barry. “We know it wasn’t Frost so name one other person who could have done that.”

“First off, there could be other metas out there with ice powers we don’t know about. And second, it’s not his MO anymore,” Barry shook his head, reading the file. He knew without a second thought it wasn’t Len, even before seeing any evidence to support that. Reading the file just confirmed it couldn’t be, the store wasn’t anywhere near the restaurant they were at that night, clear on the other side of the city. But the file read that they picked up Snart by the scene this morning, claiming that it appeared he was scoping the neighborhood two blocks away when the cops were canvassing the area for witnesses. Thinking he’d returned to the scene, the cops on duty jumped to a conclusion with little evidence on a person of potential interest based on nothing other than the frozen store clerk. But Barry saw the address, recognized it as the area of the open house he was hoping to go to today. Len had been scoping out the neighborhood, but not for the reason the cops assumed.

“Barr,” Joe sighed.

“Captain Cold just helped the Flash at the museum,” Barry interrupted again, throwing the file onto the desk behind Joe. “He saved my life at the bank. Hell, he saved time itself, Joe! Why would he take ten steps backward and murder someone for no reason other than to rob a jewelry store?”

Joe eyed Barry up and down. The tone, the urgency, Joe knew this was more than just Barry’s optimism and belief in second and third chances despite the undeserving object of his faith. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Joe asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The whole thing brought Barry back to confessing his relationship with Len to Iris, a similar stance, a similar feeling of anxiety. Although he didn’t see this conversation going quite as well as that one did. 

“He couldn’t have done it. He wasn’t anywhere near there that night,” Barry said, standing a little taller when Joe gave him a questioning look that urged him to continue. “He was with me the night of the murder.”

Joe raised a hand to rub at his eyes, disbelief evident. This brought Barry back as well, but not to the conversation with Iris. No, this brought him back to the days right after his mother was murdered, the looks on everyone’s faces when they thought he was just trying to cover for his father when he told him about the man in the lightning. At this point in time, he wondered if him declaring he was dating Leonard Snart was a more bizarre truth than that had been. 

“We were at The Tap Room in Petersburg from seven p.m. to ten p.m. and then went straight back to our apartment a few blocks away. The robbery happened downtown around eight,” Barry said, clear and concise and tried not to let the widening of Joe’s eyes at the implication of the words derail him. “There’s no way Len could have done this. You can check the security tapes at the restaurant if you need proof.”

Joe said nothing at first, just stood there with wide eyes as he digested Barry’s words. Barry stood his ground trying to convey confidence when in reality he felt like a ball of nerves standing in front of a man he considered a father after confessing that he was the alibi for a man that his father considered a criminal.

“Len. Our apartment,” Joe finally spoke, repeating a select few of Barry’s words. After everything Barry just said it was the nickname, the status of their living together was what Joe required clarification on. At Barry’s nod, he questioned, “How long?”

“About six months,” Barry replied with a gulp.

“You’ve been dating Leonard Snart for six months,” Joe remarked, arms still crossed but pushing himself from where he had been casually leaning against the desk to stand toe to toe with his son. “Why am I just hearing this now?”

“It never seemed like the right time,” Barry hesitated. 

“Could that be because there’s never a right time for something that ain’t right?” The voice got louder now, that perfect blend of fury and worry that was Joe’s patented dad-voice when his kids did something reckless.

“You don’t understand-“

“No, I don’t understand!” Joe shook his head, voice booming. “How you could be living with that man?”

“I’m not just living with him, Joe. I love him,” Barry responded without hesitation, his voice quiet compared to Joe’s volume but not lacking in strength.

“You can’t be serious!” Joe shouted back. “How did you get yourself into this, Barry? How you could fall for his shit again?!”

“I’m not falling for anything, Joe,” Barry’s voice rose, his turn to get angry but cut off by Joe before he could say anything else.

“He’s using you. This is a long con, he’s manipulating your trust just like Zolomon. Just like Thawne.”

“No!” Barry shouted, taking a step towards Joe. “No, don’t say that. Don’t compare him to Thawne!”

“How can I not? That man has only ever had his own interests in mind. He’s killed, broke his word, hurt countless people-“

“Saved the Legends lives, saved my life, helped me get the Dominator tech to save Iris with nothing in it for him.”

They both paused then, each having more to say, more to shout but not knowing where or if they should start. Joe wanted desperately to show Barry how insane this was, but Barry couldn’t hear it, wouldn’t. Before Joe could try, Barry took a deep breath and let loose with everything he had been holding inside, waiting to let out, as if telling Joe now meant he was revealing his truth, that the last part of his world would now know and that meant he was truly living in and loving out in the open.

“Look, I know this sounds cliche but you don’t know him, not like I do. I don’t know what you want me to say, Joe. You want me to tell you he’s different because he’s not. You want me to tell you he’s changed because he hasn’t. What I can tell you is the good person I always knew he was is what he’s embracing now, has been embracing since he first went off with the Legends. I don’t know how to make you understand what I see, what I’ve always seen. Even after he betrayed me at Ferris air, I was disappointed because I expected more from him, even though he never proved to me that I should. But I’m glad he did because with the way the rest of the year went, I don’t know how long those metas would have been in isolation. And helping him with his father, I saw a man who would do anything to save someone he loves, how much he was capable of caring. When he warned me about Mardon and Jesse when he could have just walked away. And then he goes off and joins the Legends, works to save time itself and dies to save his friends. Code, loyalty, determination, honor, empathy, that's what I see when I look at him, what I’ve always seen.”

“And his criminal record before that, that suddenly doesn’t matter?” Joe shrugged, anger and disbelief making his tone feel almost mocking. But Barry knew what it was, a surge in desire to keep Barry safe.

“We all have pasts, Joe. I haven’t been through what he did growing up, not knowing unconditional love like I did but I’ve felt that anger, felt that desire to make someone hurt as much as I did, to feel like your entire life has been dictated by one person and you had no control. For Len it was his father, for me it was Thawne. But I had support and love to show me a better way, a safer life. He didn't. And it's not an excuse but it is the facts. It doesn't change what he’s done in the past, I know he’s killed and hurt and robbed people but people evolve. It doesn’t erase the sins but at what point does a person stop paying for them when they’ve served their time and tried to make amends? I’m sorry if it disappoints you that I’m with him, but it won't change the fact that I love him.”

“Barry, think about what this means,” Joe fumed, anger dropping from his voice to be replaced with disappointment. “What this does to your life, your reputation. After everything he’s done. What disappoints me is that you’ve stumbled into something that won’t be good for you, that could hurt you.” 

“He risked his life for me, Joe, was there for me when I needed comfort. I feel safe with him.” Barry could feel his eyes welling up as they locked on to Joe’s, pleading with him to see things how he did, desperate for him to understand just how much Len meant to him. “For the first time in my life, I feel like I can love without fear, that even though I want to protect him he doesn't need my protection. I can't explain it, Joe. When I’m with him, when we’re together, it's not about Captain Cold and the Flash or Leonard Snart and Barry Allen. We’re none of it and all of it at the same time, just Len and Scarlet and its so damn freeing. He knows how broken I am and doesn't want to put me back together because he lives with his own brokenness. I can just be me, no pressure to be the hero or the cop, and no judgment for any of my anger or the grief. We’re not perfect. We disagree on most things but we accept each other for exactly who we are and its good, Joe. I love him.”

“Barry. Son,” Joe reached out his hands, laying them to rest on Barry’s shoulders. “I just want what’s best for you, I always have. I’m afraid you’re just looking for something different after being with Iris, after everything that happened. That this isn’t what you really want, you just think you do.”

Barry took a step back, hurt and shock propelling him away like a small push. Joe’s hands dropped from his shoulders as he did. Barry would be lying if he hadn’t thought the same thing in the beginning but time proved to him it was more than that, time with Len proved to him that he was with him because it was where he wanted to be.

“Joe,” Barry started, voice shaking not in doubt but just in how strongly he was feeling every emotion coursing through his body like static electricity; hurt, disappointment, the need for approval, but also certainty, conviction, and love. “I never thought I could love anyone like I loved Iris, that I’d never feel whole again after Nora. But I found out how to love myself for everything I am through loving him. I’ve been given another chance, Joe. I was afraid at first that we’d burn out as quickly as we started but this feels like forever. And I want it to be. We balance each other. I don’t need you to understand or even approve, I don’t even need you to trust that I know what I am doing because honestly, I don’t. But you’re my dad, and I want you to accept that with him, I’m happy. With Len, I feel at peace. I love him, that’s not going to change.”

Whatever Joe was going to respond with died on his lips as a knock of the door proceeded Detective Rowell cracking it open to pop his head in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Sir, but I need to know how you want to proceed with this investigation. Snart’s been processed but isn’t answering any questions,” Rowell said. Barry rolled his eyes, not surprised that of course Len didn’t listen when he told him to tell them everything. 

“I actually can help with that, Detective,” Barry spoke, not looking away from Joe even as he addressed the other man.

“You’re really gonna do this. For him?” Joe said, voice a quiet warning, a chance for Barry to just walk away. He could leave without anyone knowing, Joe willing to leave the conversation in these four walks and they could go back to the way it was before. But Barry didn’t want to deny a piece of himself, his love, his truth, his life. 

“For me,” Barry replied. Joe closed his eyes and gave the slightest shake of his head, the look of disappointment almost enough to make Barry want to cry but instead he squared his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from falling apart. 

“Rowell, have a Uni pull the security tapes for The Tap Room in Petersburg for the night of the robbery,” Joe finally tore his gaze away from Barry to meet the quizzical eyes of his detective. “And Barry needs to give you his formal statement.”

It didn’t take long for Barry to give his statement in front of Joe and Detective Rowell in the privacy of Joe’s office. As he put it in writing and signed off on it, he kept looking to Joe, searching for any indication of what the man was thinking. But it was a face of stone, unreadable and unmoving like when Barry had told him he wanted to work for the police, like when he had told him he wanted to dress in red and use his newfound speed to help the city, like when he had told him he’d traveled to the future and was keeping Iris’ impending fate a secret. It was clear there was anger, but how deep it was, the level of disappointment, if there was hope for a conversation, Barry didn’t know. Joe’s face gave away nothing and wouldn’t until Joe was ready to share. 

An hour later he was dismissed, ordered to wait in his lab while they handled the investigation further. Barry tried to work, knee bouncing nervously as he watched the clock, watched the door, watched his phone, ignoring the incessant growling in his stomach because now he was too anxious to eat.

Another hour later brought Carter back to his lab, indicating with her head to follow her downstairs but saying nothing. He followed as closely as he could without stepping on the back of her heels, tried to maintain a normal speed as he bounded down the stairs, and resisted the urge to surge into Len’s arms as he saw Detective Rowell escort him into the main entrance area. 

“Your alibis check out. You’re free to go,” he heard Rowell say to Len, indicating with an arm to the elevator before heading back into the bullpen, but not before giving Barry an appraising look of what only could be described as disgust. Barry just followed him with his eyes, seeing Joe standing in the doorway. Joe met his eyes before nodding with his head towards the elevator and Barry could feel the flood of relief. The look on his face still read as anger, disappointment, but that nod was the closest thing he was going to get right now to absolution, Joe’s permission to leave with Len, knowing well enough that a conversation was imminent. 

“Well, that was fun,” Len smirked at him as Barry came to stand in front of him. 

“I’m starving,” was all Barry said back, reaching his hand to grab Len’s, threading their fingers together. He saw the shocked look on Len’s face but Barry just squeezed his hand before pulling on it to follow him. He refused to look anywhere else, to see anyone’s reaction. Barry didn’t care who saw it, hoped they all did, hoped Joe was watching as Barry guided Len inside the elevator car hand in hand.

When the elevator doors closed behind them, Barry tugged on the hand once more, pulling Len’s arm up to guide it around his waist, Len bringing his other arm up reflexively to wrap around Barry’s body as Barry pushed himself against Len’s front, hands coming to rest on Len’s shoulders. 

“That was stupid, Scarlet. You could lose your job,” Len remarked, his words deprecating but his tone nothing but affectionate. 

“Then I’ll get another one,” Barry responded, voice and eyes conveying how sincerely he meant it, that he wasn’t just being dismissive. “Do you know why I became a CSI? I always loved science, was always getting in trouble for starting chemical fires to impress teachers or doing experiments in the garage and kitchen, causing small explosions. My dad was a doctor, always encouraged my curiosity for science. I thought about being an astronaut, a chemist, a chemical engineer, but I went into forensic science to get my dad out of jail. I wanted access to the evidence, to learn how to study everything about a crime scene so I could free my dad.”

“Which you did,” Len nodded.

“Actually I didn't. He was only free because of Thawne, the man that put him in there to begin with,” Barry ducked his head but Len met it with his own, pressing his forehead up against his. 

“Barry, you did everything you could. Your dad would be proud of you,” Len spoke quietly.

“I know,” Barry said back, eyes nearly crossed as he looked to Len with their foreheads pressed against each other. “My point is, I did what I needed to do. I became a CSI to help my dad but ended up loving the job because I got to help as many people as I could. But it’s not worth much if it keeps me from helping those I care about. If the choice is between my job and you, I need you to know which means more to me.”

Len tilted his head to kiss Barry, gently and tenderly. He did know. He also knew this wouldn’t be the only time their separate lives would try to divide them, that with quiet strength they’d stick together regardless. There were few things Len could count on but without a doubt, he knew the man wrapped in his arms, the man who just put his reputation and job on the line for him, the man who smiled against his lips as they kissed in an elevator at the Central City Police Department, was definitely something he always could. 

The growling stomach interrupted the intimacy and both men separated the kiss with a chuckle from Len and a groan from Barry.

“Let’s get you fed, hero,” Len said. The elevator opened up then and the two men unfolded from around each other. But Barry instantly moved to interlock their hands again as they left the elevator. Len didn’t even let the thought to pull his hand away cross his mind. Maybe Barry was proving a point to his coworkers, the world, himself, or even Len. Maybe it was just his way of keeping Len close after the threat of jail tearing them apart. Maybe it was just Barry feeling free now after being completely open with his dad. Either way, Len gripped the hand holding his tight, letting him know he was here. 

“I missed meal four and five so six has gotta make up for it,” Barry smiled at him as he led them outside of the precinct.

“It’s’Two Dollar Taco Tuesday’ at Tito’s downtown,” Len offered and was met with an even brighter smile. “Ready to try to beat your record?” 

“That’s at least eighty bucks worth of tacos. I hope you brought your wallet because I think you owe me,” Barry winked at him and chuckled when Len pulled on the hand in his, pulling him close and letting go to wrap his arm around Barry’s shoulders. 

“I definitely do,” Len leaned in to kiss him quickly on the cheek as they continued walking down the street.

Two hours and fifty-three tacos later, only four of which had been eaten by Len, found the two men back at the apartment. Barry was in pretty good spirits considering how the day had gone. As they lounged on the couch with the news in the background, Len told him about how he was doing recon of the neighborhood after Barry seemed really enthusiastic when they’d come across the house online a few days ago. He’d gotten the text from him about going to the open house right before the cops picked him up. Barry thanked him and promised they’d set something up to check it out. Little did Barry know that Len had already checked out that same house and had a feeling that it was exactly was Barry looking for. Barry told him about the conversation with Joe, assured him that he was relieved now that it wall out there in the open. Then Len had gone over with Barry his plans to make the couple jobs he’d gotten finding the flaws in big tech companies’ securities into a legit security consulting business. Barry, overjoyed, showed him just how much he loved the idea and the man, starting on the couch and ending in a long shower together.

It was such a mundane ending to the day, beautiful in its simplicity compared to the anxiety and pressure of its beginning. But it gave them both hope that together they were solid. Joe, his job, they all knew now that Barry was in a relationship with Leonard Snart. But that wasn’t the biggest revelation of the day, each man having discovered something about themself. Len learned today what it really meant to be loved, to have someone put him first, to be chosen. And Barry learned today that he was ready to embrace this life wholly now. He was in love with Len, was ready to look at homes, put a picture on display, and share his life completely with him now. Their individual stories had led them to this and together it read less like a happy ending and more like a truly complete work of art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Don't Give Up" by Darren Hayes


	14. Fear of Falling Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Got a fear of falling under, underneath the dream  
> A fear of diving too deep, deep beneath the seams  
> A fear of falling under, underneath the spell  
> A fear of what the truth sees, secrets I will tell  
> Oh, what came first  
> Love, hurt?"

Four days after he revealed his relationship with Len to the entire CCPD, Barry’s spirits had deflated. Whatever elation he had been feeling from finally being free of the pressures of keeping his relationship separate from the rest of his life, he was starting to come down from it. He was still happy, still relieved, but a new stress was invading his thoughts. Joe wasn’t taking his calls or answering his texts, any encounters at work were short and exclusively work-related. It reminded him of how Joe had acted with Iris when he discovered she was dating Eddie; the silent treatment with an array of judgmental looks, all too familiar.

On day five, Barry found himself outside of the house he grew up, tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of his maroon bomber jacket, feeling like everything was too tight all of a sudden, like he couldn’t get comfortable. He knew Joe was off today and was ready to confront him. He felt nervous but determined, uncomfortable but knowing it was necessary. He had a hand on the key in his pocket, ready to let himself in but deciding to knock instead. He waited after the hesitant knocks and could hear through the door Cecile reprimanding someone loudly as she neared him from the other side. 

“He’s your son, Joe West, and he deserves a lot more credit than you are giving him so you better make this right before I make you make it right,” he heard before the front door opened up to reveal Cecile with her cell phone in her hand. A surprised smile lit up her on her face as she shoved the phone in her jeans pocket.

“Barry! Sweetie, come in,” she said, ushering him inside the home. She pulled him in tightly for a hug before Barry could even close the door behind him. “Joe’s helping Iris at her apartment.”

“Hey, Cecile,” Barry returned the embrace, “Figures. I shouldn’t have come by unannounced anyway.”

“Please, Barry, this will always be your home. You’re always welcome here,” Cecile insisted, pulling away but keeping him at arm's length. When Barry sighed in response, doubt evident on his face, Cecile squeezed his forearms. “Your father will come around. He’s confused and hurt but he’ll come to his senses, I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” Barry asked, unable to stop himself from the defeated admission spilling out before he could try to mask it.

“Well, for one, he’s got someone to knock some sense into him,” she winked at him, eliciting a small chuckle from the young man. “But seriously, honey, he loves you. He just wants you to be safe and happy and sometimes when you’re a parent, your fear overcomes what’s looking you right in the face.”

“And what’s that?” He looked to her, begging for her to make him understand.  
“That you’re already safe and happy,” she smiled at him, rubbing her hands up down his arms. “Barry, when Joe told me about you dating Leonard Snart, I was surprised. But what I know about you is that this is your true power.”

She moved one hand over his heart, patting his chest gently. 

“Forgiveness, love, trust, everything you do, you do with your heart. If you trust and forgive and love Snart, that means you know something we don’t, you know him in a way we don’t,” Cecile smiled at him, her voice reassuring but assertive. She spoke in such a motherly way it made Barry twinge with longing for his own mother but also surge with gratitude for Cecile embracing their family and becoming the matriarch they didn’t know they all needed. “Joe just needs to be reminded of that. And the second you walked through that door I not only felt the heaviness you’re carrying because of the situation with your dad but I can also feel what you feel for Snart and I know its pure.”

“It is,” Barry sighed again, reaching his hand up to cover the one over his chest, squeezing it in thanks. 

“Then for what it’s worth you have my blessing. And your dad will come around, I promise,” she smiled up at him. It didn’t take long for the West-Allen family to become her own, to fall in love with Tam Flash. It didn’t take long for her to adopt Barry in her heart like her partner had. Five minutes with Barry Allen and you wanted him to never stop smiling. And after you learned his story, what he’d been through, what he’d survived, what he’d done for the world, you wanted to simultaneously wrap in your arms to protect him and prop him up on a pedestal and look on with awe. He may not be her son, but she would give him any bit of motherly love he would accept from her. 

“Thank you, Cecile,” he smiled through watery eyes, leaning down to give her a kiss on her cheek. 

He was about to leave, having dinner plans with Len later but Cecile pointed out that was hours away. She invited him in for coffee with less of a request and more of a demand for Barry’s story of his relationship with Len. It wasn’t quite what he had come here for, had intended on seeking absolution by clearing the air with his adoptive dad but instead found clarity by sharing his story with his newly adopted mother. It lightened his heart a little bit, lifting his spirits just enough to give him hope that he and Joe could work this out and everything would be alright. 

________________________________________

Four days after being wrongfully accused of murder and robbery, Len was a man on a mission. Barry had put a lot on the line by being Len’s alibi, his career, his credibility, his reputation at the police department. Sure, there was no real reason for Barry to lose his job just because he was dating one of Central City’s formerly-most-wanted, just as long as Len stayed clean. The temptation to resort to his old ways had popped on occasion, but there were more satisfying things in his life these days. The risk of getting caught and the idea of spending lonely nights in prison were far less appealing than coming home to a million-watt smile and being nearly strangled in bed on a nightly basis by a lanky speedster. Len would never go as far as to call himself a ‘good guy’, it’s just that he found something more to live for than the game.

So he could stay clean so that Barry could keep his job. He would turn his security consultation into a real business so he could provide for his new life; planning break-ins and heists legally could be just as fun without the heat from stolen goods and money he wouldn’t have to be worried about spending because it was earned rather than from fencing property that wasn’t his. As long as it meant he could live the life he wanted; and right now that meant a life with Barry.

It was these differences in his life these past six months though that now made life make sense in a way he hadn’t felt since he returned. The apartment that felt like home not because of the place but because of who was spending time there. It was the coffee at Jitters rather than the drink at Saints and Sinners. It was listening to the police scanner to keep an ear out for reports of the Flash’s exploits and making sure he didn’t hear that he was injured rather than listening to response times to be prepared for future heists. It was scoping out vacant houses for sale because Barry told him he’d wanted to make a home for himself rather than vacant houses for squatting or stealing from while the owners were away. 

He wouldn’t give up anything he had currently to go back to the life he had before, a life he was accustomed to for three decades before even considering that maybe it wasn’t serving him like he thought, that there was more out there for a guy like him. Besides, for any thief, nothing compared to the perfect score and that was definitely what he’d finally found with Barry. Love, home, safety, and peace like he’d never felt. He’d do everything in his power to keep that safe, protected, to make sure Barry felt that same kind of peace. Barry was his sun and he’d do anything to keep him shining.

His boyfriend though was having a tough time the past few days, struggling with the notion that his foster father didn’t approve of their relationship. Len could care less what Joe West thought except for the fact that it really seemed to upset Barry, despite his efforts to assure Len he was fine. If this went on much longer, Len was going to take matters into his own hands and have a very pointed conversation with Joe himself. He doubted it would actually help the situation any but he couldn’t sit idly by. To distract himself, however, he focused on things he could control. He’d visited the bungalow for sale that Barry was interested in and put an offer on it without telling his partner. He’d spoken with a lawyer to try to get his new business venture off the ground. And more pressing, he was currently trying to figure out whether or not someone had been trying to frame him. 

He’d visited the scene of the crime that he’d been accused of, managed to sneak a look at the file on the case while he’d been at the station, asked around to local contacts that he still had an in with, and spread the word that he was looking to meet with the purveyor of the crime. And on day five, he waited at one of the old Rogues’ safe houses, a warehouse defunct and abandoned in a seedy part of downtown Central City. Len sat in the manager's office above the main room which he had once used as his own as the Rogues would gather below on old sofas celebrating after a heist or crashing on the cots when they had to lie low after their own individual endeavors. He never got the Rogues off the ground like he had wanted, a team of criminals to take on the heroes of Central City, before he went off and joined his own rag-tag group of wanna-be do-gooders that ended up being the team he had been looking for, but they had had a good run however brief it had been. 

But his musings were interrupted as the man he had suspected and was expecting walked into the office without so much as a knock on the door frame but with every ounce of cockiness a person could possibly possess. Len hoped he never looked as half as ridiculously arrogant as Mark Mardon seemed to always look.

“Snart, looking rather lively for a dead man,” Mardon grinned, coming deeper into the office before plopping down uninvited into the chair in front of the desk that Len was seated atop of. 

“Rumors of my demise were premature,” Len replied, folding his arms over his chest. He was a vision of aloofness, unimpressed by Mardon’s presence, leather jacket instead of the parka, the cold gun on the desk beside him. Captain Cold may not be the notorious criminal of Central City any longer, but he was still a force to be reckoned with and Len reveled in the calm, composed, and dare he say cool nature of his alter-ego. 

“Apparently. No ones heard from you for three years and then all of a sudden you show up on Channel 52 helping the Flash,” Mardon’s grin turned into a sneer as he eyed Len suspiciously.

“Those two nimrods were destroying my city and I was in the neighborhood,” Len shrugged, the Captain Cold persona coming as natural to him as breathing. No, he may not be a supervillain any longer, but he was a legend in this city and he damn well owned it. 

“Where have you been?” Mardon ignored the response. Just who the hell Mardon thought he was talking to, Len didn’t know but he had now gone from unimpressed to irritated.

“I don’t answer to you, Mardon,” Len spoke venomously. “In fact, it’s you who owe me some. I know that jewelry job last Sunday was you.”

“You can’t prove it and neither can the cops,” Mardon grinned again, leaning back against the chair, stretching his arms behind his head. Arrogance, Len loathed unearned arrogance. 

“Were you trying to frame me or just demanding a little bit of attention like a spoiled child?” Len smirked. Mardon’s face dropped immediately, all pretense of arrogance being replaced by anger.

“I was proving a point. You don’t own this town anymore. I can dethrone you with one small break-in,” Mardon sneered, standing from the chair now to tower over Leonard who still sat upon the desktop. “You bounced three years ago, only to come back out of nowhere and help the Flash?! Don’t get any ideas thinking things are going to be the way they were, you’re not the top shit anymore.”

Len said nothing as Mardon ranted, just a cold judgmental look his response.  
“You’ve gone soft,” Mardon scoffed. 

“Enough,” Len finally shouted, standing from the desk to come toe to toe with Mardon. “I don’t give a damn what you think about me. What I do care about is this city and the reputation of the Rogues. We’re better than the work you just pulled.”

“There is no we and there is no work. There are no Rogues,” Mardon folded his arms over his chest. “Although I’m thinking about trying to bring it all back together. This time without their Captain.”

“Be my guest in trying to rally them. You’re hot-headed, unpredictable, and sloppy. And without Heatwave and Golden Glider, they’ll be second rate at best,” Len smirked, pleased with the fuming response he was getting from Mardon. “And let's be real, Mardon, without your powers you’re nothing but a thug.”

Leonard grabbed the cold gun off the desk, gripped it tight, and moved to walk past Mardon whose stare he could feel piercing his back. 

“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me, Snart!” Mardon roared and Len could have sworn he heard thunder emanate around himself and the Weather Wizard.

“I’ll do whatever I damn please,” Len called out over his shoulder, not sparing him a glance. “You can have the Rogues, this safe house, the title of top villain in Central City, be my guest. Just remember who it belonged to first and that they’d be secondhand from me, not earned. But you come for me again and I won’t be as generous.”

Leonard walked out of the safe house, bolstering his cold gun beneath his jacket, leaving Mardon behind and with it a piece of his old self he was happy to be rid of. He was walking away from a place he had no intention of returning to, an ally he had no plans to keep, and a legacy he no longer held in esteem. Now he was headed to dinner with his future, something much more appealing than anything behind him. 

________________________________________

Five days after Snart was released from custody, Mark Mardon was pissed. For the last three years, he’d been in and out of prison, had his daughter try to kill him, watched as new villain after new villain tried to take down the Flash only to get so close to succeeding before being defeated. It should be him owning this town, should be him taking down the Flash. Having to watch from the sidelines in prison was torture, the town ripe for the taking, having the powers of a god and being bested time and time again by a guy who could run real fast. 

Seeing Captain Cold back after so many years, helping the red-clad hero no less, infuriated Mardon. Snart was believed by many to be the best criminal in the city, disappeared, and gone for years only to return and be hailed as heroic after helping the beloved scarlet speedster take down some two-bit morons trying to blow up a museum. It was embarrassing for the former Rogue to watch and Mardon planned on proving a point. He had used his powers to create an ice blast that froze that store clerk solid, something Weather Wizard wasn’t necessarily known for. And since that Killer Frost chick that came out of nowhere a couple of years ago worked with the Flash now after a brief stint as a villain, Captain Cold being back on the radar was an easy frame. How the hell he got off, Mardon didn’t know. 

To say that Mardon was angry would be an understatement. To be dismissed by Snart was one thing, but to discover that Cold was going straight was a whole other game. The criminal king of Central City had gone soft and was judging him?! Wherever Snart and Rory had gone off to these past few years, both men came back different. Snart was still a dick and Rory still a hothead, but Mardon couldn’t place it. Rory never stuck around anymore and Snart swooped right back in with an attitude like he still owned the city without pulling a single heist. 

Mardon took a drag from his cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall of the pawnshop a few blocks down the street from the safe house Snart had just stormed out of. Mardon followed, keeping his distance. He didn’t know what his next course of action was, but he was going to prove to Snart he was more than just a thug, powers or no powers. He wouldn’t be dismissed, not by Snart or anyone. He was a threat, and it was time this city felt it. 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long for inspiration to strike. 

Across the street he watched Snart pull the collar up on his jacket as he walked briskly, stopping just in front of a bistro with a glance towards his watch. Mardon moved himself to lean behind a lamppost, hoping to not catch the eye of the man across the street as he observed. It’d be ten minutes later, Snart glancing at his watch two more times before Mardon saw him smirk at someone approaching from down the street. Mardon averted his gaze to see a young man jogging towards Snart, dressed a little too clean for this neighborhood in dark jeans, gray sweater, and a maroon bomber jacket, a big smile clear on his familiar face. As the guy came to stand in front of Snart, he watched the criminal reach out and pull on the other man’s jacket a bit, his words soundless to Mardon but the younger man clearly was amused as his smile got bigger before leaning in to plant a quick kiss to Snart’s lips.

So there it was. Snart had someone he cared for, someone who was clearly in a different league. As the obvious partner of Snart grabbed his hand and pulled him along to follow him into the deli, Mardon realized why the kid looked familiar. He’d seen him at the precinct. He’d been processed by him. He’d seen his face when researching Joe West.

And suddenly Mardon couldn’t help but smile as well, flicking the cigarette out as he pushed away from the lamp post and went off to formulate a plan that not only punished Snart, but dished out some long-awaited revenge for the death of his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Fear of Falling Under" by Darren Hayes


	15. Black Out the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No, turn off the sun, take down the moon  
> For I don’t need them anymore  
> Go switch off the stars and paint the sky black  
> Love isn’t ever coming back  
> There is no use in imagining a world without you 
> 
> There’’s an emptiness inside of me since you’ve been gone  
> All the world has lost its meaning, all my colors run
> 
> And there is no other way, there’s no joy, there’s no meaning  
> Just this hollowed out feeling  
> Now all the loves gone and nothing grows here  
> And I just feel wrong, so black out the sun"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is loaded with warnings: kidnapping, torture, non-con touching, violence...also angst for days.

Joe stood outside the heavy metal sliding door of the old lab, Barry’s lab. It was just about the time Barry would be ready for his second meal of the day, about an hour after he’d come into work. Joe was hoping to lure his son away with a promise of as hefty a breakfast as he wanted on the Captain’s, and his old man’s, dime as well as an overdue conversation. It had been a week now since Barry confessed his relationship with Leonard Snart and regrettably Joe realized he had handled the situation all wrong. 

Again.

His overprotectiveness of his children manifested in different ways and when mixed with hurt or deception, Joe relied on the silent treatment. He was well aware that his kids were more afraid of disappointing their father rather than making him angry, and nothing said disappointment like the silent treatment. It gave his kids time to think about what it was they’d done, whether it be stealing his convertible, applying to be a cop, deciding to play hero after being in a coma for nine months, dating his partner or a convicted criminal, anything that jeopardized their safety and well being. Joe thought his silence spoke louder than any shouting or reprimanding could. But it never had the desired effect, only ended up punishing them all rather than proving a point and Joe just wished he’d learned from his past mistakes already. Then there was the fact that his kids were adults, responsible and brave people who were perfectly capable of making their own choices for the lives. Sometimes it was difficult for Joe to keep that in mind when worried for them but that was his fault, not Barry’s. Cecile was right, even if it took him a few extra days to realize it. It was time to clear the air. 

His intentions and peace offering died before it could start however as Joe slid the door open and found an empty lab. No sign of the CSI, no indication that Barry had even come in yet. Joe fished his phone out of his pocket and called Barry’s cell but after two attempts that just rang through, Joe eventually left a voicemail.

“Hey, Barr, it’s me. Just checking in, which if I’m being honest, I should have done a lot sooner,” Joe spoke into the phone as he walked down the stairs, heading to his office. “I think we need to talk and I hope you feel the same. Stop by my office or give me a call back when you get this. Love ya, son.”

With a sigh he put the phone back in his pocket as he entered his office, closing the door behind him, dropping into his chair behind his desk. Detective for fifteen years, cop for over twenty, Captain of the precinct for less than one; father was still the toughest job to date. 

The slamming of the door against the wall as it was flung open had him reaching for his gun on instinct. He fought that instinct though as Leonard Snart came striding into his office. Joe would be lying if he said the inkling to shoot the man didn’t cross his mind but it wouldn’t go very well if he shot his son’s boyfriend while he was still trying to smooth things over.

“Snart, you must be out of your damn mind barging into my office,” Joe cursed. 

“When did you last see Barry?” Snart ignored the thinly veiled threatening voice as he stormed in. 

“What-“

“Barry was supposed to be going to your house last night in a second attempt to try to talk to you. He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts since yesterday evening,” Len interrupted. His tone and demeanor could be deemed threatening but Joe saw through it. It was sheer concern. 

“He never came over last night,” Joe stood up, his own worry pushing all other feelings aside, including anger at Leonard Snart for barging into the CCPD. He watched the anger fade from Snart as well, the tenseness in his body language, the tightness around his mouth releasing as he sighed, distressed as he ran a hand over his buzzed head. Joe had only seen the man without the aloof facade once before, at the bank hovering over a bleeding Barry. 

“He told me he’d wouldn’t be home last night and not to worry. Then this morning, I went for my coffee and newspaper at the corner bodega as usual and the clerk handed me this. He said someone left it for me but he couldn’t identify who,” Snart handed a yellow manila envelope to Joe. The top was torn open and all that was scrawled on the front was ‘Snart’ in sharpie. 

Joe accepted the envelope hesitantly, a suspicious look directed at Len before reaching into the package. Pulling out what was enclose, he felt his insides freeze, not even able to gasp at the sight. A small stack of four polaroids. They were all close-ups, no clear shots of a face but what they could see of the person was recognizable to Joe. 

The first photo was a shot from behind, Barry laying on the floor on his side, arms pulled tightly behind, tied at the wrists with rope, and more wrapped around his arms and chest. The next photo was from the same angle but zoomed in on his hands tied behind his back with the coarse rope, close enough you could how the fibers of the rope dug into the skin of the wrists below the unbuttoned sleeves of a flannel shirt. The third was a close up of the lower half of his face, a thick cloth pulled between his teeth, lips barely meeting, the bottom split. The final photo was a close up of the waist, the top of the photo revealing the button of the fly popped open while the bottom of the photo revealed blood-stained jeans, the image cutting off before being able to see the injury. Scrawled on the bottom white portion of the polaroid was ‘see Joe West to complete the set’.

“What the hell are these?” Joe all but growled, glancing up at Len, the man's fists clenched beside him and jaw set. Before Len could answer, a uniformed officer knocked hesitantly on the open door frame. 

“Sir?”

“Not now, Mitchell,” Joe barked impatiently. 

“Sir, this came for you and it was marked urgent,” Mitchel said, clearly unsure if he was supposed to interrupt or not but it seemed like a pressing matter. At Joe’s jerk of the head indicating the officer should come in, he handed a yellow manila envelope to the Captain and quickly fled.

The envelope was identical to the one Snart handed him, this one addressed to Captain Joe West in the same sharpie scrawl. However the words ‘urgent’ and ‘time-sensitive’ were added underneath in all caps. Leonard came around to Joe’s side of the desk, hovering over his shoulder as he tore it open. Joe said nothing about the proximity or presumptuousness of seeing what was addressed to him. It was clear whoever had taken Barry, it involved both of them directly. 

Joe pulled out a small stack of polaroids, just like the ones Snart had received. Four polaroids, all of Barry. These photos were different, however then the batch that had been left for Snart. They were a more full view of Barry’s predicament, the first a full view of him from the front, clearly unconscious, his head angled down against the wood floor as he lay tied up tightly. The second showed a foreign hand with a fistful of hair held tight in his fingers, pulling to reveal Barry’s face. His eyes were closed, features relaxed in unconsciousness but a clear view of a large gash on the right temple, drying blood on his forehead into his hairline, the gag cutting at the corners of his mouth. Flipping through to the third photo was a close up of his legs, the ankles tied together with rope, duct tape wrapped around a towel at the knee soaked with blood, revealing the injury causing the blood staining the pant leg around it from the photo in Snart’s set. The fourth and final photo was the one that chilled him the most. The anonymous hand was back but this time it was gripping his chin, forcing Barry to face the camera, his eyes open but just barely, like they hadn’t been open long enough to focus on what was happening to him. 

The black sharpie scrawl at the bottom of the final photo threatened “we’ll be in touch”. 

“Who the fuck would do this?” Len asked through gritted teeth as Joe pulled out his phone, shaking his head, trying to take deep breaths to calm the fear and rage as he dialed. 

“I don’t know but whoever it is has something against both of us and we need to figure that out,” Joe responded, addressing Len as he held up the phone before directing his words to the person on the other end. “Cisco, has Barry’s suit been in S.T.A.R. Labs the whole night?”

There was a pause as Cisco checked the tracking data on the other end of the call. 

“Damnit, ok then I need you to ping his phone.” Another pause. “I’ll explain later, Cisco, just track his damn phone.” Joe couldn’t even feel guilty for snapping at the young man, not with the distress he was currently trying to keep at bay. “You’re sure? Ok, send me the exact location and get everyone to S.T.A.R. Labs. We’ll be there soon.”

Joe hung up and turned to Len. “Cisco got the GPS coordinates on Barry’s phone.”

“You drive,” Len said, receiving a tight nod from Joe as he followed him out into the bullpen of CCPD. And suddenly everything between them stopped mattering, the history, the differences, the animosity. The only thing that mattered was what they shared right now, concern, anger, fear, and Barry Allen. 

_________________________________________

Barry awoke slowly, a foggy blanket of confusion warping the thoughts and images in his mind as he tried to remember what had knocked him out. With great effort he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to get them to focus until all he saw was dark blank space around him. He lifted his head slowly, wincing at the stabbing pain he felt behind his eyes. Raising his head, which felt so much heavier than it should, his vision transformed from blurry shapes to a sharper image of what appeared to be an empty room, old and worn, a house or an apartment maybe. As he tried to bring a hand to rub at his throbbing head, the inability to move his arm jolted him into awareness.

He searched wildly around, trying to grapple with the predicament he was in. He was lying on his side, upper body restrained tightly, a length of rope wrapped twice around his chest just below his shoulders, binding his upper arms securely to his sides. A twist of his arms revealed more rope was inflexibly cinching his wrists together behind his back.

He moaned in pain as awareness returned, the sound muffled by a thick cloth tied between his teeth and secured behind his head. He pushed at his gag with his tongue, rubbing the bandana against his shoulder, trying to loosen it but bit down on the fabric as a sudden wave of pain emanated from his right leg. Looking down he saw dried blood staining the jeans where duct tape wrapped thoroughly around his knee and held what appeared to be a small towel soaked in blood. He could feel the pain emanating from his knee, concerned because even though he didn’t know how long he was unconscious, the wound should have at least started healing by now and based on the amount of pain and blood, that hadn’t happened. 

As Barry moved, he could feel his head swimming, pain at his right temple, and that tight feeling against his skin of dried blood. Barry struggled to sit up, scrambling to get his legs, bound at the ankles with rope, underneath him, trying to keep pressure off his right leg, shimmying his body till he could slowly prop himself up into a sitting position, leaning heavily back against the wall. He tried to phase through the bonds, tried to vibrate, but felt nothing, no spark of the Speed Force, no hint of the lightning coursing through his body. He could feel it was just plain rope binding his arms and around his ankles yet something was dampening his powers. 

He shifted his focus back to his surroundings. There was nothing special about the room he was in. There was a door directly across from him, the only one he could see. The room was empty except for a small folding table and two wooden chairs in the corner, one window behind him that was heavily boarded up, and the only light source from a very old looking hanging lamp above the center of the room. The old floral and faded wallpaper was peeling slightly off the walls and the wood floors were cracked and flaking, but it lacked the dank and stuffy smell one would imagine from the looks of it. It must be abandoned, but only recently.

Barry strained to pull free of the ropes again, twisting his wrists behind him till he began to sweat and his fingers started to go numb. But the ropes held and with a tired grunt, he went limp against the wall behind him and stopped struggling. He rested for a bit, leaning his head back against the wall, trying to figure a way out of this. He bent over in half and slowly brought his legs up beneath him, balancing on both of his feet as he teetered on his bound legs, trying to stand before the weight on his right knee caused him to shout in pain, his legs sliding out beneath him and Barry crumpled to the floor. He bit down on the gag trying to stifle his shout of pain, his forehead pressed firmly to the wood beneath him, fighting back choked tears of agony and frustration.

It came to him in flashes then, first the fractured memory of waking up in tight musty confines, unable to stretch out or see anything, but could hear the road beneath him as they drove, figuring he was in the trunk of a car before passing out. 

Then he remembered how he got in this mess in the first place. 

Barry had a daily routine. In the morning he would speed to an alley with no side entrances to any of the nearby shops that were right by the closest bus station to Jitters, walk the four blocks over to grab his morning coffee, and then casually walk down the next block over to the CCPD. It was the same routine every morning, like clockwork, that helped him keep discretion about his powers and identity. Most nights when he would leave work, if he wasn’t flashing off to some emergency, it was the same plan in reverse. He would walk the five blocks from CCPD to the bus station, sometimes stopping at Jitters to grab an evening snack or cup of coffee, duck into the nearby vacant alley, and head to usually either S.T.A.R. Labs or Len’s apartment. 

Last night he had left work around seven as usual and was on his way to Jitters to grab coffee and a box of bear claws to bring to the West home. It had been almost a week now of minimal contact with Joe and he’d finally had enough. He needed to see him, to make Joe talk this through with him. He was originally supposed to be on Flash duty, but with the city quiet, Ralph volunteered to cover and Barry was going to drop by unannounced. He’d told Len not to wait up, hoping they’d talk into the night and if it got too late, he’d crash in his old room if it went well.

He was enjoying a normal paced walk in the crisp fall evening air, two Jitters To-Go cups in a tray in one hand balanced atop the pastry box in the other, thinking briefly of flashing back to grab the coat he left in his lab but deciding the flannel button-up shirt he wore would suffice for the brief walk. 

He was just two blocks from his destination, the alley where he could discretely zip away without anyone noticing, when he heard a noise from the small side street he was passing. 

“Help, “ he heard a strangled voice call out from the alley. “Please, someone help.”

“Hello?” Barry called out as he turned into the small street between the two shops, searching for the source of the plea. It was dark, the sun had already set in the early fall evening but he could make out a delivery van parked by the wall of one of the side entrances to a florist while a black mustang was parked alongside a dumpster at the far end.

He didn’t notice someone emerge from the shadows behind him until he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel as it was pressed against the back of his head.

“So quick to help those in need,” the voice behind him mocked, the gun tapping against the back of his skull with two prompting nudges. “Your foster dad must be so proud. So brave.”

Barry stood still, recognizing the voice, knowing that to tap into the Speed Force would give his alter ego away and this was not someone he could risk knowing his secret. He would have to settle this as Barry Allen. 

“You don’t want to do this,” Barry said, voice even, not giving any indication of the panic he was keeping at bay. Whatever retort that was on the tip of his attacker’s tongue was interrupted as Barry kicked backward with his leg, hitting his attacker in the groin. He felt the gun drop from where it was pointed at the back of his head as his attacker doubled over in pain.

Barry spun, dropping the coffee and pastries to the ground, landing a punch to his attacker's face but he had no time to tap into the Speed Force to phase or dodge as a soft muffled ‘fwip’ was heard before pain erupted through his right leg, the sound that of a gun with a silencer as a bullet tore through his knee. Barry collapsed onto his back to the ground with a cry as white erupted behind his eyes. 

The man was instantly on top of him, knees digging into his arms, pinning him to the ground, one hand quickly clamping over his mouth while the other steadied the barrel of the gun in the center of his forehead. Subdued and injured as he was, escaping a bullet at point-blank range to his head at top speed would be impossible. 

“Brave but stupid,” the voice above him had grinned. Through the haze of pain, the face hovering over him was exactly who he thought it was. The knowledge was useless though as the gun was lifted and crashed down on his temple, turning the world black around him. 

At least until waking up briefly in the trunk of a car before coming to full awareness here. 

“Oh, good,” a voice interrupted his memory recall, Barry’s head snapping up to stare at the man leaning casually in the doorway across the room. “You’re finally awake this time. You were up a bit earlier but were zero help during our photoshoot before you passed out on me again. ”

Mark Mardon. 

“I thought maybe I cracked you too hard or you lost too much blood before I wrapped you up and our fun would stop before it even got a chance to begin,” Mardon smiled, clearly pleased with himself and amused by his captive. He moved into the room, closing the door behind him before casually walking over to where Barry sat back against the wall, crouching down to a squat to meet his captive at eye level. When Mardon reached out a hand towards him, Barry couldn’t help but flinch, cursing inwardly at himself for doing so. “Relax, kid, I’m not gonna hurt you just yet.”

Mardon hooked a finger between the fabric and Barry’s cheek and roughly pulled it from his teeth, letting it hang around his neck.

“I guess shooting me in the leg doesn’t count?” Barry sneered, stretching his jaw. 

“You kicked me in the nuts, seemed only fair,” Mardon shrugged, smiling curtly.

“What do you want, Mardon?” Barry glared at the man in front of him.

“Oh, good, you know who I am. It’s nothing personal against you kid. I’ve got a point to prove to your boyfriend and a score to settle with your foster dad,” Mardon said as he stood, moving across the room to where the table and chairs were. 

He grabbed one of the chairs by the top rung and dragged it across the floor to the center of the room, the sound of wood scraping against wood reverberating in the emptiness. Mardon took the few strides from the middle of the room to where Barry leaned back against the wall, watching him. He bent over and untied the rope around Barry’s upper body, slinging it over his own shoulder and leaving the wrist and ankle bindings intact. Mardon bent down again to hoist Barry up by his arm when he quickly had to dodge as Barry threw his head to the side, narrowly missing knocking into his jaw, and falling back on his heels. Regaining his footing, he grabbed for Barry who was struggling to shake him off.

With Barry’s ankles bound together, wrists lashed behind his back, and wounded, he really shouldn’t be this difficult to manage. But Mardon, like every bully in his life, underestimated him and Barry would take any opportunity to use it to his advantage. Mardon wasn’t having any of it though as he dug his fingers into Barry’s arm and dragged him back across the floor. Despite his captive’s thrashing, Mardon managed to hoist Barry up and throw him into the armless wooden chair. He grabbed the coil of rope from over his shoulder and before Barry could try to wiggle himself out of the chair, Mardon wrapped the rope over his chest and around the back of the chair two times, securing him there even as Barry continued to fight the bindings.

“Fuck kid, you got a lot of fire in you for someone so...scrawny,” Mardon chuckled loudly, out of breath from their little struggle. 

“Untie me and you’ll see what I’m capable of,” Barry sneered, trying to catch his own breath, trying not to show the fresh pain he was feeling in his leg from their little tryst. Mardon chuckled again. 

Barry wasn’t expecting the punch that landed squarely on his jaw, snapping his head back. Mardon just watched as he recovered from the blow, Barry shaking his head, spitting out blood to the side before glaring back up at him. Another punch landed in the abdomen, Barry folding over as much as the restraints to the chair would allow.

Before he had a chance to fully recover, Mardon gripped the back of his skull, pulling on the hair and yanking his head back. 

“You got spunk. I can see why Snart would be interested in a little shit like you. But listen here,” Mardon seethed, giving the hair in his grip another hard yank, Barry hissing in pain. “You’re a means to an end. I’m gonna torture you to torture West and Snart. If you do not cooperate, I can kill you right now and move on to people who mean more to them, like Snart’s sister or West’s daughter. You’re a matter of convenience Allen, two birds with one stone. You cooperate, play your role, I won’t go after them instead and I’ll even try not to hurt you too much before I kill you in front of them.” 

Mardon let go of his hair then and moved across the room. Barry swallowed a few times, pressing his lips together as he tried to calm the nausea from the punch to his gut but unable to stop himself from his next question. 

“That’s your endgame? You torture me, kill me, and then what? Revel in your victory until they throw your ass in Iron Heights?” Barry challenged, his tone conveying more strength then he was currently feeling. 

“No, I torture you until they find you, till it gets them so riled up they’re desperate. Desperate people are sloppy, make mistakes,” Mardon replied, his back turned to him as he fiddled with things on the card table in the corner Barry couldn’t see. “You’re the bait, kid. They come find you, I kill you in front of them, let West know how it feels, let Snart know I won. Then I kill them both.”

“They’ll stop you,” Barry said, voice steely, determined not to let Mardon get to him. 

“I hope they try,” Mardon replied, a vaguely amused grin on his face, returning over to hover where Barry sat, a phone in his hand. “I already sent them some pictures while you were sleeping so they understand who's in control. What comes next depends on how they react. Either way, unfortunately, this just isn’t going to go well for you.”

_________________________________________

“Okay, we see Barry stop here,” Cisco said as he paused the surveillance video on the monitors. “He waits a second,” Cisco pushed the play button on the computer, “then he turns and walks into the alley out of the frame.”

“It looks like he hears something that catches his attention but the footage has no sound,” Ralph added, his natural curiosity for a mystery being completely overshadowed by his concern for a man he viewed as a little brother. 

“We checked the shops bordering the side street he entered where we found his phone but no one saw heard anything suspicious. No witnesses, no suspects,” Joe said as he placed the plastic evidence bag containing Barry’s cell phone onto the desk. “This was the only one with a camera.”

The coordinates Cisco had sent Joe after they received the polaroids led to a side street a couple of blocks from the Jitters. They had found Barry’s phone, abandoned and left for them to find along with his wallet, a small pool of blood, and two spilled over coffee cups with Barry’s name scribbled on the sides beside an upturned box but of bear claws. Joe had to swallow his grief when the indication on one of the cups was the way he took his coffee, another stark and painful reminder of his remorse, knowing that Barry had been on his way to see him last night. 

He had gotten the footage with a flash of his Captain’s badge, but when Joe showed the owner a picture of Barry asking if she’d seen him, the owner of the small florist shop offered whatever help she could. Apparently Barry had been a customer a few times, was kind to her, and she was more than happy to hand over the jump drive with the video from the storefront that bordered the side street. 

After thoroughly searching the street, Joe and Snart returned to S.T.A.R. Labs. They had shared what they knew with the team, had all poured over the polaroids, trying to find something in the background that gave them a clue on where Barry was being held captive, who could have taken him, but came up short. Now they were obsessively reviewing the camera footage.

“The time stamp on the feed from when he disappears is seven-fifteen p.m. Snart got his photos around six-thirty a.m. and Dad about a half-hour later but we have no idea when the pictures were actually taken,” Iris couldn’t help but pace in front of the console as the team gathered around in the Cortex. She was stressed, worried, just like they all were. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, the images of Barry unconscious, tied and gagged were stuck behind her eyelids, her heart racing since she first saw them, feeling like she was just on the verge of a panic attack every moment Barry was missing from, trying desperately to keep it at bay. 

“Iris is right. They’ve had Barry for nearly fifteen hours, why wouldn’t they reach out and demand a ransom or something by now?” Cecile added, her voice shaky, her empathy powers picking up on every person’s emotions in the room; anger, fear, worry, guilt, all threatening to overwhelm her. She swallowed it down though, determined to use it to her advantage to comfort the people she cared about rather than let them consume her. She reached out to rub a reassuring hand up and down Cisco’s arm, the person in closest proximity to her that needed comfort. Cisco was currently alternating between chewing on the tip of a coffee stirrer and twirling it between his fingers as he stared at the screen. He was razor-focused on the video, looking for any little detail to try to help his best friend, the first time since taking the meta cure regretting not having his vibe powers. 

“We don’t even know if they’re after a ransom. Considering who they sent the photos to, its gotta be a personal vendetta,” Ralph replied, rewinding and rewatching the footage of Barry entering the alley. 

“But in what kind of bizarre ven diagram do Snart and Joe have people in common? I mean, other than Barry,” Cisco sighed, slapping Ralph’s hand away from the keypad so they could watch the video play out. 

“Even if Barry was injured or unconscious for half of the fifteen hours he’s been missing, he wouldn’t stick around that long tied up just to preserve his identity. He’d figure something out. Why hasn’t he escaped by now?” Ralph asked, looking around to the room, a lingering look to Snart who just stood there, arms crossed and adding nothing to the conversation, a stoic mask on his face hiding all emotions. But Ralph saw the flinch when he asked the question, knowing the answer that sprung immediately to his mind probably sprung to Snart’s as well; maybe Barry was too hurt to escape. 

“No trace evidence on anything, no prints other than Barry’s,” Caitlin bit her bottom lip. “And he was the only donor in the blood sample from the scene.”

Len inhaled deeply through his nose, running a hand across his face. He hated this feeling of being powerless, created a rage inside him that he was currently doing everything in his power to keep to himself because what good would that do for Barry right now. There had been no cameras in the alley, no video or witnesses to indicate to them who took him or what they’d done to him to cause the blood found near his phone and overturned Jitters cups. All they had was the front of the alley where Barry had entered. 

“Wait,” Len suddenly turned from where he had been watching the overhead monitor to face the group crowded around the console in the Cortex. It was the first word he spoke since he’d explained how he came into possession of the photos when they first arrived over an hour ago. “We only saw Barry go into the alley. How did whoever took him get him out of there?”

“The only footage of any vehicle leaving is the delivery van for the florist,” Joe replied, sighing heavily. “And the delivery driver’s alibi checks out.”

“But what about the other entrance of the alley?” Len asked, prompting Cisco to type away furiously.

“There’s no camera’s at that end,” Joe shook his head. 

“No, but there might be security cameras on the other side of the street,” Cisco smiled, hacking into their system and pulling up the feed to the day of Barry’s disappearance. The footage was from a jewelry store on the other side of the street that had a slight view of the alley entrance. They watched as the video feed from their security system sprang to life on the monitors, Cisco fast-forwarding through the afternoon’s footage. 

“What are we looking for?” Ralph asked. They stared at the screen for a few minutes until Len pointed to the bottom right corner.

“There!” They watched as a black vehicle turned into the alley that was located in the corner of the screen about forty-five minutes before the time stamp from the florist’s footage where saw Barry enter on the other side. 

“Fast forward,” Joe ordered. A few minutes went past until he called out again. “Stop!”

Cisco paused it on the frame where it appeared like the same black vehicle appeared to back out of the alley. With a few types of the keyboard, he zoomed in on the vehicle to reveal an image of the side of what looked like a black Shelby Mustang. 

“You think that could be the car that drove away with Barry?” Ralph questioned, squinting at the still frame. Joe nodded before turning to face Len. 

“And I think we both know someone who has an affinity for Shelby Mustangs,” Joe frowned. Before Len could respond he felt a vibration in his pocket.

Pulling out his phone revealed an incoming video call from an unknown number. He looked to Joe who nodded, the team stopping in their tracks, holding their breaths as Len hit the ‘accept’ button. 

The phone sprung to life and the smug grin of Mark Mardon filled the screen. Len could barely contain the instant rage that surged through him. 

“Mardon, you son of a bitch, where the fuck is he?” Snart immediately growled out. He knew he should remain emotionless, that this was exactly what Mardon wanted but right now, all the rage and fear he felt pounding in his chest won out. 

“Snart, that is not how you answer a phone,” Mardon laughed, a sick twisted smile on his face. “So angry, such language. I thought your little boy-toy tamed you.”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll show you how tamed I am,” Len threatened through gritted teeth. 

“Ya know, your boyfriend tried to threaten me with a similar sentiment. Whose rubbing off on who, I wonder,” Mardon grinned over his shoulder to someone they couldn’t see off-camera. 

“Let me see him,” Len demanded. 

“No. Would you like me to make some lame joke about him being tied up at the moment?” The grin as Mardon spoke caused the blood in Len’s veins to boil, never wanting to shoot someone so badly. “So is it just you or did you team up with West to complete my little photo series?”

“He’s here,” Len glanced up to Joe who came to stand beside him, reaching for the phone. 

“Give me my kid back, Mardon,” Joe gripped the phone tightly.

“Now isn’t this sweet, Allen? Your dad and your boyfriend, hanging out,” Mardon smiled over his shoulder again, mocking the two men glaring into the phone screen. 

“Cut the crap, Mardon, what do you want with Barry?” Joe snapped furiously. The fact that Mardon was addressing his son and he couldn’t see if he was okay had Joe’s heart hammering in his chest with anxiety and anger. 

“I don’t actually want anything with the kid, West,” Mardon sneered, clearly satisfied with the reactions he was getting. “What I want is for you to recognize whose in control here. What I want is for you to know what it feels like for someone to take away your family. What I want is for you to realize just what I’m capable of.”

“Another tantrum,” Leonard rolled his eyes, unable to stop the remark but instantly regretting it when he saw Mardon’s expression shift, from that arrogant amusement to a look in his eyes that could only be described as psychotic. With a shake of the camera as Mardon moved, suddenly in full view was Barry and the collective gasp from around the Cortex as they caught sight barely pierced the blood rushing in Len’s ears. 

Barry was tied to an armless wooden chair, his arms pulled back and bound behind him. Rope wrapped around his chest and around the back of the chair, the gray T-shirt underneath his open blue plaid shirt was ripped at the neckline, no blood but it appeared like he had struggled. His ankles were bound tightly together, the rope cinching the fabric of his jeans just above his converse, the right pant leg stained with blood around where the knee was wrapped with duct tape. Dried blood crusted at a large cut at his hairline just above where a black bandana was wrapped over his eyes, a white bandana folded into a thick strip pulled tight between his lips. 

“This is no tantrum. This is me proving a point,” Mardon said, coming to stand behind Barry, gripping his shoulder hard with one hand while the other held up the phone so both he and his captive were in the frame. Mardon pulled the gag down from Barry’s teeth. “Say hi to your boyfriend, Allen.”

“Len-mmph!” Barry barely got out before Mardon moved his hand to clamp tightly over his mouth.

“Goddamnit, Mardon, he’s got nothing to do with anything. You want your revenge, let him go and you can deal with me personally!” Len shouted at the phone as he watched Barry, still blindfolded, try to dislodge the hand unshakably gripping over his mouth. 

“So noble of you, Snart. I’ll tell you what. You get West to get me my brother back and I’ll give you back the little bastard,” Mardon sneered, gripping tightly over Barry’s mouth till the skin beneath his fingers was white. 

“Just tell us what you want,” Joe begged, hand reaching out to grip the edge of the desk in front of him. 

“I want you to suffer. I want you to watch as I take away a piece of you, knowing this is your fault. I want you to stew in the fact that I’ve beaten you both by one simple snatch and grab. Without a crew, without much effort, and without my powers,” Mardon moved his hand away from Barry’s mouth to lift the blindfold up and over his head. 

Barry blinked suddenly at the sudden return of his vision, eyes widening when he found both Len and Joe on the screen in front of him.

“Don’t come for me! He’ll ki-mmm!” Barry was cut off again as the hand returned to clamp over his mouth, shouting beneath the hand gagging him as Mardon pulled, forcing his head back against Mardon’s shoulder.

“Barry’s right. You come for him and I’ll kill you. But I’m not quite ready to do that yet. I’m gonna drag this out, watch you squirm. I’m using a meta proof security system to not only prevent myself from being tempted to use my powers because I don’t need them to do what I have planned, but also so that you don’t get any ideas sending your speedy friend in red to come and save him.”

Joe closed his eyes, their answer on why Barry hadn’t escaped provided. Mardon had rigged wherever he was holding Barry with a power dampener, completely oblivious the dumb luck of having the Flash in his possession and was cutting him off from escaping.

“You cowardice piece of shit,” Len cursed, jaw set and eyes narrowed, the voice in his head screaming at Mardon to get his hands off of Barry.

“Careful, Snart,” he sneered in a low voice, eyes narrowed into slits. The amusement gone for a brief moment before it returned. “This can turn from threatening to life-threatening real quick.” 

Suddenly with the hand still clamped over Barry’s mouth, Mardon shifted his index finger and thumb up to pinch Barry’s nose closed, cutting off his air completely. Barry convulsed and bucked against the chair and the hand cutting off his air supply. His frantic eyes, wide and desperate sought out Joe and Len on the screen before clenching closed. Joe and Len shouted for Barry, for Mardon to stop as Barry shook his head from side to side, muffled moans and whimpers as he tried to fight but Mardon’s grip was relentless.

A few more agonizing seconds and Mardon released the hold on his face and Barry instantly began dragging in deep breaths, raw fear in his eyes as he coughed deeply before trying to take in more air. Mardon barely gave him the time to get his breathing under control before pulling the gag back up over his mouth.

“I’ve got the power over his life, over your lives. Don’t forget it,” Mardon said winking at the camera. “Be in touch.”

And with one last leer at Barry still trying to catch his breath in the chair, the connection cut out with a beep, and the screen went black like an eclipse blocking the sun, blocking them from seeing the person they both loved.

“God fucking dammit,” Len roared, throwing the phone across the room before storming from the Cortex into the medbay. Joe slammed his fist on the desk and was immediately embraced by Iris, tears in her eyes. He held his daughter tight, relishing in her presence and safety but shaking with fear and anger after what they all just witnessed. 

Over Iris’ head pressed into his shoulder, Joe saw Ralph with a hand on Cecile’s shoulder, saw Cisco holding the hand of Frost who at some point took over Caitlin to protect her, just like she usually did when Caitlin was scared or angry. He could hear Len in the medbay, cursing as he threw something that shattered. Joe couldn’t blame him, he felt the same, they all did. That frenzy of grief when the notion of losing someone hung over them like a sword, desperate to figure out how to stop the world from spinning madly around them so they could bring him home but knowing that if they lost Barry, their world just may as well just stop spinning anyway.

_________________________________________

Barry slept through the night, if you could call it sleep, or if it was even night at all. It was more like his body was exhausted, mentally drained, craving rest or a reprieve. But he was still bound to the chair tightly, still gagged, and had probably passed out more than actually falling asleep. 

After the video call, Mardon had left him alone and had yet to return. He had no idea how long ago that was or how long he’d been held captive. He had no concept of time, the window boarded up so the room was always dark, unsure if the sliver of light that cracked through was from daylight or street lamps. Every so often he could hear the sound of a train going through in the near distance, but that didn’t tell him where he was in the city or if he was even still in Central City. 

At least he knew now why he wasn’t healing, why he couldn’t access his powers to phase out of the restraints. He breathed hard, trying to slow down his racing heart. Not having his powers to help him terrified him. He’d been in difficult situations before, this not being the first time he’d woken up after being knocked out, but nine times out of ten he was in his suit. He was the Flash, the hero of Central City, he always found a way. But now, in this situation, he was just Barry. Mardon had shot him in the leg, shot the Flash in the damn leg, and he didn’t even realize he’d clipped his wings because Mardon was only after Barry Allen. Dumb luck was all it was. But as anxious as all this made him, Barry knew that his team would find him, they always did. And Barry wasn’t sure Mardon realized just how dedicated of a father Joe was or how fiercely protective Len could be. 

As the silent moments ticked by, the quiet nearly suffocating him, Barry couldn’t help but think of Len and Joe. He saw the desperation on both of their faces in the brief moments he was on the other end of the FaceTime call, could hear the anger and fear in their voices. Mardon had no idea what he was in for when they found him but Barry was more concerned with what happened when they did. Mardon had made it clear to him that he had every intention of killing them both. As much as he wanted to be saved, part of him hoped they wouldn’t find him. He didn’t want to risk Mardon getting the upper hand and killing Len and Joe, he couldn’t protect them without his powers.

As that singular thought struck him, it was like a surge of lightning. His exhaustion, frustration, and defeat was washed away suddenly. He was more than his powers. He could find a way out of this. He wasn’t going to sit around and wait to be saved, wouldn’t put the people he loved at risk by uselessly waiting for them to come and find him. Barry twisted against the restraints, still no give in the rope binding his wrists but the writhing when Mardon had tried to smother him had loosened the rope tied around his chest to the chair back. He could hear the squeak of the old wood of the chair, could feel one of the legs go rogue beneath him, the slight give of the wood rungs of the back as he squirmed and it gave him a bit of hope. 

He began to shift from side to side fiercely, trying to create some movement in the chair. It wasn’t easy with his bound legs but eventually, he got the momentum up enough where the chair rocked on its legs until suddenly it tipped over enough to the left for gravity to take over. The chair came crashing on its side and with luck, the old wood splintered beneath him. For the first time, Barry was thankful for the gag, biting down on a pained shout as he felt the force of the fall pop his shoulder, praying he didn’t dislocated it. White spots erupted behind his eyes as the shooting pain ricocheted through his arm and his wounded leg. It had been worth it though, the back of the chair having cracked with the impact of the fall, loosening the rope securing around his chest to give him enough slack to wiggle and stretch out from beneath it. 

He rolled onto his back, desperate to get the pressure off his left shoulder, biting down on the gag as he rode out the wave of fresh pain from his injuries, giving himself a moment before resuming his attempt at escape. He shimmied back against the nearest wall, trying to catch his breath and ignore the pain in his knee and the throbbing of his shoulder. His eyes searched the room desperately for something to use to cut the ropes binding his wrists behind his back but all that remained was the other old chair and small table in the corner. 

He had no chance of escaping with his hands literally tied behind his back. He braced himself against the wall, leaning his shoulders back and taking a deep breath. If they were cuffed this would be easier because there would be a small bit of slack between his arms but tied together like this was going to be uncomfortable, to say the least. He shifted till he was in a squat against the wall, balancing precariously on bound ankles and ignoring the pain in his knee, took another deep breath, and leaned back as much as he could. His shoulders screamed in protest as they were wrenched forward, bringing his arms under his bound legs, lifting his feet, moving through the pain in his leg to thread them through his bound arms. He bit down hard on the gag as his shoulders were wrenched completely around as he brought his hands in front of him.

He collapsed against the wall then, breathing heavy, swallowing down the nausea as pain ricocheted from the gunshot wounded knee, a throbbing in his shoulders from the pull of wrenching them the way he did, and almost certain that he fractured or tore something in the left one between the fall and the unnatural stretching. Barry counted to thirty to slow his breathing, waiting for the pain to subside before reaching up his bound hands to pull the cloth free from his jaw, letting it hang around his neck. He groaned a little when he saw the condition of his wrists, the skin beneath the rope inflamed, blood-streaked from his desperate attempts at trying to free himself having chaffed and broken the skin. His hands were still bound but at least in front of them he had a better chance of getting out of here. As he worked the rope free from his ankles, he was grateful for the jeans that spared his legs the same treatment as his wrists.

When he finally unknotted the cinched rope from around his ankles, slowly and steadily by leaning heavily against the wall, Barry was able to stand. He limped across the room, trying to keep the pressure off his right leg, to the only door but that proved pointless as it was locked from the other side. Glimpsing across the room to the singular window, he could see up at the top where the boards were clumsily secured. If he could pry the plywood free, it could be a means of escape that didn’t include trying to navigate an unknown house past wherever his captor was located. He didn’t know if he was on the ground floor or not, but it was worth a shot.

He limped his way across the room again carefully, grabbing the other chair from the corner and dragging it awkwardly to underneath the window. He leaned heavily on his left leg as he tried to steady his injured right leg on the seat of the chair, bracing himself to put pressure on the injury but when he attempted to shift his weight to it, the injured knee gave out and Barry crumpled to the floor with a shout. 

It was then he heard the door swing open and Barry collapsed in a heap on the floor, knowing he’d just blown his chance. 

“A for effort,” Mardon scoffed as he walked towards him, grabbing Barry by his good shoulder. As Mardon lifted him off the floor he struggled and pulled away as he was dragged backward, trying to jerk free, unwilling to just comply. But Mardon grew impatient quickly with his struggling and slammed Barry back hard. Barry groaned and let out a breathless gasp as Mardon took him by the shirt, pinning him to the wall. Mardon launched his fist into his gut and Barry hunched over from the pain, a strained groan leaving his throat.

“I warned you. Just play along like a good little captive and you wouldn’t get hurt too much,” Mardon grabbed him by the arms and pulled Barry along, half dragging him out of the room and down the hall. “Couldn’t even do that. Now our next gift to your loved ones will hafta not be just punishment for them but also a teaching moment for you.”

Barry’s knee throbbed trying to keep up, his shoulder screaming as Mardon roughly guided him down what appeared to be a hallway in a house. It was the first glimpse he’d been given of where he was being held captive outside of the one room he’d been confined to. The question on why Mardon would keep him in a rundown house of all places was pushed away as he tripped on his feet, sending a fresh wave of pain through his leg like lightning and he couldn’t stop his legs crumpling beneath him with a cry of pain. 

Mardon’s hold on him kept him from falling completely to the floor but he made no effort to help him back up as he dragged him the rest of the way into another room down the hall where an old bed sat against the wall. 

It was a metal wire frame with elaborate antique designed head and footboards, no mattress, just the wooden support beams. Mardon manhandled him onto his back onto the bed frame, instantly grabbing Barry’s still bound wrists and pulled them up over his head.

“Argh, shit!” Barry shouted at the painful pull on his shoulder as Mardon grabbed rope from the floor, wrapped it around his already tied wrists and fastened them securely to the iron headboard of the bed over his head with very little slack. 

"This is your fault, kiddo. I told you not to try anything,” Mardon scolded, grabbing Barry’s left leg, binding the ankle securely to one end of the footboard before moving around the bed and doing the same thing to his right.

"Fuck you," he mumbled through gritted teeth. Mardon just laughed, reaching into his pocket for a navy bandana, balling it up in his fist. Barry sighed as he saw it, knowing what was coming. 

"See this is why I do you the favor of keeping you gagged,” Mardon said in faux sympathy as bent over to meet Barry’s eye level. With one hand his fingers pinched Barry’s jaw till it forced his mouth open enough to shove the cloth in Barry’s mouth, his other fingers prodding it until it filled the space behind his teeth. Mardon then took the white bandanna that still hung around Barry’s neck and pulled it up to his lips, reaching behind Barry’s head to tug it tighter between Barry’s teeth over the other cloth.

“Time to put on a show, kid,” Mardon smiled lewdly, pulling his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen and started recording. Barry's eyes widened.

"Let's see what has Snart ready to give it all up for," Mardon reached down and lifted Barry’s shirt, his hand gliding across the torso, stroking his chest and pinching at his skin. Barry grunted and squirmed trying to pull away from Mardon’s touch.

“Not so scrawny after all, lot of muscle you’re hiding,” Mardon mocked, the phone in his left hand recording as his right hand traveled across Barry’s body as he tried to twist and escape the unwelcoming touch.

“Come on, kid, is it just Snart or you got a thing for criminals?” Mardon teased, playing with the button on his jeans. Barry responded with shouting and frantic struggling in his restraints. He couldn’t do anything but try to resist as his pants were tugged down his hips little by little, just far enough to get a peek at the briefs beneath. He roughly grabbed Barry’s denim-clad thigh and Barry continued to fight, even though he knew he was just playing into Mardon’s hands. 

Barry was breathing heavily, panting through his nose as he bit down on the gag, bucking against Mardon’s exploring hands. He froze as Mardon’s hands hovered over his groin but didn’t touch, couldn’t help but whimper and close his eyes, not seeing Mardon focus the phone on his face. 

“I bet that mouth of yours is good for more than just smart ass remarks, huh,” Mardon laughed, then turned off the recording before standing up. Barry's eyes flew open as he heard the ‘ping’ of the camera being turned off, Mardon’s hands suddenly removed from his body. Barry gazed up at him, angry, confused. The comment before had him certain Mardon was just about to take this further than nonconsensual groping, but then he stopped recording and pulled away. 

Barry just watched through wide suspicious eyes, watching as what he could only guess was Mardon sending off the recording to Len before pocketing the phone.

"Lucky for you, I’m not a fag. That was just to get your boyfriend riled up,” He wiped his hands off on his jeans and moved away from the bed. Barry closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control, trying to not get upset about the molestation he just experienced and grateful that it hadn’t gone any further.

“Now you hang out here while I take care of a few things. But don’t worry, I’ll be back later for some more fun,” Mardon winked at him before leaving him alone in the room, closing the door behind him. Barry swore at him in response but the cloths stuffed in his mouth suppressed his voice. 

He let his head fall back against the wooden board beneath him, not even trying to free himself because god he was just so tired. And hungry. And thirsty. And everything ached. He couldn’t stop the few tears of pain that came now that he was alone, didn’t try to stop them as they escaped his eyes. He failed at escaping, might as well let his tears do what he couldn’t.

_________________________________________

Len’s hand was shaking as he lowered the phone, thankful he was alone in the Cortex, and knowing he couldn’t show West the video just sent to him. He almost wished the phone had shattered when he had thrown it across the room yesterday so he wouldn’t have had to watch Mardon’s hands violating Barry. But not watching it meant Barry was truly alone with Mardon and Len wouldn’t allow it, would force himself to watch every video Mardon sent or answer every one of his calls if it meant a chance to see or hear that the man he loved was still alive and that Barry knew Len would always be on the other end. 

And for that reason, he slid the phone into his back pocket instead of hurling it across the room again like he wanted too. He could feel his heart rate escalating, feel his breathing become shallow and rapid as his anger rose. He glowered around the Cortex, wishing either Ramon or Dibny was here to shout at or West to argue with. But everyone was doing what they were supposed to, tracking down leads, trying to bring Barry home after he was taken from them two days ago. 

Two days. Fifty-three hours and seventeen minutes, actually. He was taken at seven p.m. on Monday, received the photos Tuesday morning, the video call that afternoon, and then nothing from Mardon until a day later with that video he just sent. He was surprised by Mardon’s patience, the calculated and minimal contact instead of boasting and peacocking. Len has underestimated him and now Barry was paying for it.

No witnesses, nothing but the security camera footage. Traffic cams around the city had been undergoing upgrades that day so there was no way of tracking the vehicle they suspected Mardon had been driving. Joe and Cecile were both calling in every favor as Captain of the CCPD and former District Attorney, with almost the whole precinct volunteering to help find one of their own. Dibny was hitting the streets for every snitch he knew that could have seen or heard something from Mardon. Cisco was obsessing over current city cams and satellite data for any blips of Mardon or Barry on facial recognition, traces of the Speed Force, or unusual weather patterns. Iris was in touch with every contact she had in the city, even her old ties with investigative journalists at Central City Picture News. Caitlin was pouring over the evidence from the scene for any trace of where Mardon had been before he had lured Barry into the alley. 

And here he was, playing along with Mardon’s game as he watched what he was supposed to and unavoidably responding how he knew Mardon was wanted him to. For Len, it was numbness he was striving for, doing his damndest to keep his emotions, anger, fear, grief, and guilt at bay in the way he’d nearly perfected years ago. And for the most part he succeeded. But it was the sight of the costume standing there in the alcove, mocking him, and suddenly, he was seeing red. Not the vibrant red of the iconic suit of Central City’s hero in front of him, not the radiant red of Barry’s blush that he’d kill to be able to see right now, not the peaceful aura of red he saw when that feeling of love took hold at the sight of the only person in the world who had ever made him feel that way. It was a fiery rage that burned a violent red. Maybe it was the fatigue, the ache in his head, the anger at not only Mardon but himself, the worrying about Barry – Len snapped. 

He let out a loud, guttural scream, and put his fist through one of the monitors on the wall to the right of the suit alcove. The screen shattered at the point of impact, display fritzing, feeling the crack in his knuckles, satisfied as he pulled his hand out and saw that for the first time in a while it was his own blood on his hands, not Barry’s.

He was about to punch the monitor above the one he’d just busted, the destruction of the first not satisfying enough, when he heard a loud shout over the blood pounding in his ears.

“Snart!” 

Len dropped his arm to the side, unfazed and uncaring of the pain and blood dripping from his split knuckles. He turned and saw Caitlin Snow in the doorway connecting the medbay to the Cortex. No, not Caitlin. Her hair was iridescent white, skin a shade paler, dark blue lips, and sparkling blue-almost-white eyes. Frost.

“Look, I’m a drama queen myself but with everyone searching for Barry, I’m gonna be the one stuck cleaning this up,” she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Len surveyed at the mess he’d made, the adrenaline wearing off and now feeling the sting in his hand. He flexed his fingers a few times, hissing as he saw the flecks of glass embedded in the knuckles, and cursed himself for his stupidity. He looked up as he heard the clacks of heels walking away. 

“Come on,” Frost called behind her as she headed back into the medbay. “Caity can deal with this one. I don’t get paid enough to play babysitter or nurse.”

Len followed behind, glancing over his shoulder at the suit once more, before entering the medbay where Caitlin now waited, her skin warmer, hair darker, but just as much of an icy stare as her alter ego with her arms folded over her chest. 

“Sit,” she nodded her head towards the white chair. Len obliged, resting his right hand on the arm of the chair as she came around to his side, rolling a small metal tray on a stand with her medical supplies.

He watched as she wordlessly inspected the wounds, lifting a pair of sterilized tweezers off the tray and began to extract any glass debris. Len refused to verbally react to the pain despite the sting, he’d done enough without having to concern her with his uncomfortableness. Her approach was clinical, cautious hands of a doctor, not the caring and tender approach he’d seen her use when tending to Barry, but it was kind all the same. He wouldn’t expect the same bedside manner she reserved for Barry, one of her best friends, but he also certainly didn’t expect nor thought he deserved any of her kindness at all, even bothering to tend to his self-inflicted wounds. 

“Thank you, Dr. Snow,” he acknowledged as she inspected the damage, holding his hand between hers, Len noticing they were cold to the touch which he found comforting yet also nerve-wracking that any moment the kindness could cease and her frostier demeanor could freeze him solid.

“You can call me Caitlin,” she replied, a softness to her voice that he did not deserve but was not surprised to receive. Even though she had the power and every right to cause him pain, she was like the rest of Barry’s team. They were innately good people, driven to help, not cause pain, whether it was warranted or not. 

“I’m afraid not, Dr. Snow,” Len shook his head in reply, meeting her questioning gaze with all the sincerity he could muster up. “I hurt you, I used you against him and I can’t take that back.”

“It was a long time ago, Snart,” she looked away, resuming her work as she swiped his knuckles with an antiseptic wipe.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s a miracle that he’s forgiven me for everything and honestly, I’m not sure I’ve done enough to earn that forgiveness,” Len said, looking straight ahead, the pain in his hand as she cleaned his cuts nothing compared to the swelling pain of regret in his chest. Not for what he’d done because at the time it was what he thought was necessary. No, regret that what he thought he had to do ended up hurting people, people he’d soon come to care about. He glanced back to her as he continued. 

“But what I do know is I haven’t begun to earn your friendship. The least I can do is offer respect. So for now, if it’s alright with you, I’d prefer to address you as Dr. Snow.” 

“Well the respect is appreciated,” Caitlin smiled, wrapping his hand now with gauze. “I’ve seen how you are with him, it’s clear how deeply you care about him. You keep treating my friend like that and we’ll get there.”

“You bunch are just unreal,” Len chuckled, bringing his injured hand to his chest as he nodded his thanks once she finished. “First Iris, now you. No shovel talk, no threats, just accepting this whole Barry and I thing.”

“Would you prefer a shovel talk or a threat?” She smirked as she wheeled the cart over to the sink to clean up.

“It’s just a little surprising, all things considering,” Len leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes, suddenly exhausted now that the adrenaline of his rage-induced violence had left him. 

“Leonard?” She questioned the name, a chuckle and a nod from the man in the chair permission enough. “Look, Leonard, a lot has changed since you and Rory kidnapped me to use against the Flash. I know I’ve changed quite a bit since then, we all have, it stands to reason you have too.”

Len snorted, lifting his head to watch as Caitlin came to stand beside him in the chair, her arms folded across her chest not so much in defiance as before but in almost a self-protection at the notion. 

“Frost and I hurt the people who love us because we were angry and scared. Then there’s Ralph who’s gone from a disgraced cop to one of Central City’s protectors. Barry was even ready to help Savitar after he tried to kill Iris,” Caitlin spoke, not with judgment or remorse for her or her friend’s past indiscretions, but with acceptance and understanding, something he saw in her eyes as she stared at him. “You’ve come into a family who believes in second and third chances, a family Barry brought together. And if he’s brought you into his life, that means whether you like it or not, you’re part of this family now too.”

Caitlin reached a hand out then, laying it on his forearm tentatively. And Len let her, looking up as her hand squeezed his arm gently, reassuringly. 

“You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to feel like you are,” she smiled sympathetically, voice soft. “Everyone here loves him, as you do. So you belong here just as much as any of us.”

“She’s right,” a voice interrupted from the doorway. Both Caitlin and Leonard’s head snapped up at the sudden addition to the room. There Joe West stood, leaning against the doorframe, something Len cursed himself for missing. He could always sense when the room changed, but he was so distracted by Caitlin’s kindness, by his rising fear for Barry.

Caitlin gave his arm another squeeze before walking away, placing a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder who responded with a sad smile, before leaving the two men alone in the medbay. 

“We searched everywhere Mardon’s been known to frequent or been associated with, but nothing,” Joe supplied, stepping further into the room towards where Len sat. “Could have used you and your expertise on the streets with the search.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Len responded, gaze steely as he met the other man’s, his voice rising in anger, throwing it at the man. “Besides, West, what are you going to do? We got nothing. And Mardon doesn’t want to be found till he’s ready to kill us.”

“I’ve got a dozen uniforms surveilling all his known locations and leaning on any of his know associates for information,” Joe crossed his arms, matching the heat in Len’s voice, defending his actions, defending himself. “We‘ll find him”

“And then what? Throw him back in Iron Heights till he can escape and try again? It’s all bullshit,” Len shouted. 

“You think I don’t know that? But I’m gonna use whatever resources I can to try to find my son!” Joe shouted back, taking a step towards Len. “I promise you this, if I get any opportunity or any lead, law and order be damned, I’ll do what I have to.”

“No, you won’t. You’re the Captain of CCPD,” Len couldn’t keep the disgust from his voice as he pointed out his doubt in Joe’s words. 

“I’m his dad first. The job means nothing if I can’t keep my family safe. I’ll do whatever I have to for my son.” 

And with those words, suddenly Len knew where got Barry got it from, the willingness to give it all up for the people he cared about. The phrase itself almost identical to what Barry had said to him at the precinct. It both alleviated and added to his anger simultaneously.

“Even if it means icing out your son because he’s dating a criminal?” Len challenged, the heat still in his voice but no longer shouting. His gaze locked with the other man and Joe held it for a moment before dropping his head with a sigh, hands shifting to his jacket pockets.

“I don’t trust you, Snart. Can you blame me?” Joe replied, shaking his head. “I just can’t figure out how this started, why after everything between the Flash and Captain Cold, you would pursue Barry?”

Len took a deep breath, not looking at Joe but instead the injured hand he cradled in his other as if the injury that was a result of the lack of control of his emotions held the answer to what Joe was asking.

“Someone tells you there’s good in you, expects more from you than what you’re giving, they’re just not believing in you, they’re saying you’re worth something. No one’s dared me to be more before simply because they thought I was capable of it and not because they wanted something else from me. That got in my head, this idea of being more. And slowly, that thought just kept getting louder and louder until an opportunity came for me to step up, to be part of something bigger than myself,” Len looked up and met Joe’s eyes, the words spilling out of him, things he’d sworn to only ever be open about with Barry, that he was the only one who’d get to see this side of him. But Barry wasn’t here, and Len needed to feel connected to a piece of him. If that meant being open and honest with the people Barry cared about, that accepting these people as a part of his life now because Barry was, then so be it. More than that, he needed to get him back and the only way that was going to happen was if they were on the same page. “I wanted to see if he was right, if I could be more, do more, than what I was used to. And then I did. And then somewhere along the way, I wanted to be more to him, to not just be worth something to the world, but to be worth something to him, the one that believed in me from the start.”

Joe’s face softened, an empathy Len had seen directed at him before, from Iris in her car when she acknowledged that she could see how much he cared for the other man. Len couldn’t help but marvel in the fact of how open, how honest with their emotions this whole family was. 

“Look Snart, you’re not anywhere near the list of people I would choose for my son. But he sees something good in you, always has. And if I’m being honest, there have been enough times where he’s been right and I’ve been wrong for me to question whose in the know here,” Joe stared at him, face a mix of emotions that reflected Len’s own. “I’ve been wrong before, where it mattered. I kept him from his father for all those years. I refuse to keep him from someone else he cares about. Not again.”

“I expected more resistance from you, West,” Len replied, pushing himself up and out of the chair, coming to stand in front of Joe.

“Yeah, well maybe if I hadn’t been so resistant before, I could have been there to keep him from being taken,” Joe closed his eyes, shaking his head. Len had seen that before, seen that exact expression of misplaced guilt in Barry. It amazed Len how much Barry had gotten from the man, how much love and support Joe had to provide for Barry to emulate him like a son did a father. 

Len couldn’t be mad at the man anymore for his response to the discovery of their relationship. Joe West would never hurt Barry deliberately; he was human and thus allowed to make mistakes. Len could relate to that. This was the man that raised the person he loved, the man that was partially responsible for Barry being Barry. And Len loved who Barry was, all of him.

“This isn’t on you, Detective. This is my fault,” Len said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You’re not the only one Mardon’s after,” Joe shook his head. 

“He only took him because of what I did,” Len argued, feeling that anger rise again from before, the surge that caused him to punch a hole through a tv screen. And Len realized now, it wasn’t Joe or Mardon he was mad at. It was himself.

“Mardon has been after me for years for Clyde. What happened between you two might have triggered this but it was only a matter of time til he came after my family,” Joe stated, reaching a hand out to brace against his shoulder. Len wanted to push it away but couldn’t find the strength to. 

“And he took Barry because of me. Not your daughters or Horton, but Barry,” Len bit back, closing his eyes as the video from earlier replayed behind his lids. Mardon’s hands, Barry’s struggling. Barry had told him once he believed himself to be selfish for keeping the ones he loved close when there were so many people out there who could use them against the Flash. Len told him his love was worth the risk. Now the roles were reversed, Barry being hurt to get to him and Len couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t a two-way street. Barry’s life was worth a hell of a lot more than anything Len could ever give him. 

“He took Barry as leverage against you, he’s hurting him as revenge against me. This is not your fault, Leonard,” Joe said, a conviction in his voice that Len also recognized as something Barry inherited. It was the same tone he’d used time and time again to try to convince Len that there was good in him, as if what he was saying was a fact. Hearing the tone from Joe, it made Len need to make the other man understand his own truth. 

“I don’t deserve him. I need you to know I know that,” Len met his eyes, a sincerity and openness he’d only shared with less than a handful of people. But he needed Joe West, the father of one of those people he’d shared everything with, to trust him. “But I also won’t ever stop fighting for him.”

Joe nodded at him, patting the shoulder beneath his hand once before dropping his arm. 

“I believe it,” Joe nodded again. He opened his mouth to say something else when an alert on Joe’s phone came from his jacket. Len tensed as Joe reached into his coat pocket, part of him praying it was good news but knowing in his gut it wasn’t. “It’s a video message. From Mardon.”

_________________________________________

“Mmmph!” Barry grunted angrily against the gag, twisting his wrists, tugging at the knots, trying with everything that he had to break free of the ropes. He had been struggling for a while now, his shoulder protesting and the strain taking its toll quickly, but he wasn’t willing to give up, he wasn’t willing to stop fighting.

“You’re not getting free so you might as well save your energy,” Mardon said smugly as he entered the room, seeing Barry struggling against his bindings. “You’re gonna need it.”

Barry lifted his head as Mardon approached the bed with a hand towel draped over his shoulder, a pitcher of water in one hand, and a small tripod in the other. Mardon just smiled at him as he placed the pitcher on the floor next to the bed. Taking the phone out of his back pocket, he deftly set up the tripod near the wall that faced the side of the bed and placed the phone on the stand.

Barry ignored him, continuing to pull on the ropes as Mardon laughed.

“You’ve got a problem with listening and doing as your told, don’t you?” Mardon remarked, pulling the gag roughly from between Barry’s lips, tossing it aside. Barry with some effort managed to spit out the other cloth wadded between his teeth. 

“That would be something you, Len, and Joe all agree on then,” Barry licked at his cracked lips, staring Mardon down, defiance like steel in his eyes. Mardon just laughed. 

“So here’s the thing. We’re gonna make a little video message that’s gonna tell West and Snart just how shitty they are and they’re going to hear it from you. You’re gonna help me put a lil script together that’s gonna crush West and break Snart’s heart, if he had one,” Mardon smirked at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed frame by Barry’s hip.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’m not going to help you hurt them,” Barry eyed Mardon up and down, knowing there was more to what he was proposing. 

“See, I just knew you were going to make things difficult so I came prepared to persuade you,” Mardon bent down to pick up the pitcher of water with one hand, resting it beside Barry’s head. As Mardon pulled the towel down off his shoulder, Barry’s eyes widened as he realized what was coming.

“Mardon, don’t do-hmmm” Barry’s plea was cut off as the towel was placed over his entire face and his captor began to pour water on the towel. He felt like was drowning, his body flopped up and down as if he was going through an electric shock, his chest heaving as he tried to breathe.

Mardon lifted the towel off and Barry quickly tilted his head to the side, coughing violently. Water was dripping out of the side of his mouth, his head throbbed but Mardon barely gave him a chance to recover before he grabbed him by the hair, straightening his head. 

“Like I said, we’re going to make a video message. You’re going to tell West how it's his fault. You’re going to tell Snart that you could never love him.” Mardon spoke low and even, voice conversational but Barry knew this wasn’t optional. That didn’t mean he was just going to play along, however. 

“Go to hell,” Barry spat, barely getting the words before Mardon descended on him. Barry’s eyes widened in terror as Mardon held the towel over his face again and poured. The towel was drawn so tightly across his face so that the outline of his nose and mouth were clearly visible through the fabric. Mardon started pouring the jug of water slowly onto the towel, moving the stream up and down so it covered both his nose and mouth. Barry thrashed against his bonds, desperate to escape the waterboarding, but they held tight. He tried to turn his head away from the cold water but the towel was held so taught against his face it was impossible to move. The weight of the water gradually dragged the cloth past his mouth into his throat, slowly strangling him. Water filled his nose and mouth as he tried to draw in enough air to breathe. 

And then the towel was pulled away again and Barry coughed and spat out water, trying to draw in deep lungfuls of air.

“You’re going to make your foster father believe he failed you and that you’re worse off for knowing Snart,” Mardon said over Barry’s desperate attempts to get his breathing under the control. Suddenly Barry realized Mardon hadn’t hit record on the phone, he wasn’t even taping this to send off to Joe and Len. This was torture, a sick game to just get Barry to do what he wanted.

“They would never believe me, even if I agreed,” Barry replied between pants for air, water dripping into his eyes as he glared at Mardon. “Which I won’t.”

Mardon covered Barry’s face with the wet towel again, pressing his hands down so they were on the bed on either side of his head. The wet towel clung to Barry’s nose, water dripping into his mouth as he tried to breathe in the air but could only draw in water. He was convulsing; he had no control over his body as it responded to the simulated drowning. He saw stars, his head was spinning, and he teetered on the edge of consciousness. 

Just when he felt like he was about to pass out the towel was torn away and he could, at last, get some precious breaths. Barry lay on the bed choking and sobbing, his whole body twitching with the after-effects. His fingers clawed helplessly at the rope binding his wrists to the metal slats above his head. 

“How bout this, if you don’t do what I ask, I’ll just kill you now. Then I’ll go and grab Snart’s sister and West’s daughter and play this out with them. What do you say?” Mardon sneered, expression twisted in a cruel smile. “They’re more my type anyway. I won’t have fake it with them stop the camera before any of the action happens like I had to with you.”

“You son of a bitch, you leave them alo-mmmm!” Barry’s fear of what Mardon would do to Lisa and Iris was overshadowed when Mardon moved forward once more with the towel. Barry thrashed and pulled against the bonds securing him to the bed, his head whipped desperately from side to side, but it was futile and nothing could stop the wet towel being pressed tightly against his face. The water was poured and he spluttered and coughed as it filled his nose and mouth. He had no perception of time as Mardon tortured him, at some point couldn’t differentiate from when water was being poured or when it was just the soaked towel clamped over his face. All he knew was darkness and water. 

Barry was yanked into wakefulness with the stinging slap of Mardon’s palm connecting with the side of his face. His head rolled with the force of it. He blinked his eyes open and the pain in his split cheek registered almost immediately. He wasn't sure if he had actually passed out, but he became fully conscious with Mardon slapping his face. He coughed and water spewed from his mouth. He was still strapped to the bed, Mardon grasped his chin and turned his head to face him. His hair was dripping water, eyes red from crying.

“Please, leave Iris and Lisa alone,” Barry begged as he came back to awareness, words raspy as he drew in desperate breaths, the memory of Mardon’s threat before he passed out still reverberating in his pounding head. “I’ll do what you want, I’ll say what you want just please don’t touch them.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Mardon winked, slapping him playfully on the cheek before grabbing the towel once more. Barry’s eyes widened, tensing as he feared what was coming. But Mardon stood from the bed, throwing the towel in the pitcher and walking away. 

When it was over Barry slumped against the wood slats of the bed, coughing and spitting water, trying to control his breathing. He didn’t know what was in store for him next, what he’d be forced to say to hurt Joe and Len, but he’d endure whatever was necessary if it kept Iris and Len’s sister safe. He could take it. He had to. 

_________________________________________

The Cortex was dead silent, the air heavy with anxiety, and quiet enough you could every hitched breath of anticipation. Joe had just received a video message from an anonymous number and knew it had to be from Mardon. Cisco had tried to trace the message, tried to trace every call that either Joe or Len had received but they’d all been sent through a wi-fi network that had been rerouting to a different IP address every thirty seconds and Cisco couldn’t pinpoint the IP address source.

“He’s not smart enough. He probably got help from Axel,” Len had supplied, knowing the strengths of the other Rogues in Central City. It was important to know the pros and cons of every competitor and every potential ally and Len liked to be prepared. What little good that did keeping Mardon away from Barry.

From Joe’s phone, Cisco routed the video to the display monitors rather than watching huddled around Joe’s phone. Len wasn’t keen on the idea, not with practically Barry’s whole team watching, not after the video he received that he still hadn’t shared. But a bigger screen meant more eyes surveying for clues to finding where Mardon was holding Barry captive. So Len and Caitlin stood behind where Joe and Cisco sat at the desk, just the four of them holding their breaths as Cisco hit play. The video was black for a few moments before springing to life. 

Barry was seated in a chair once more, his hands bound in front resting in his lap, rope wrapped around his ankles. He wasn’t tied to the chair this time; his left shoulder slumped lower than it should, indicating a dislocation or separation. There was a large, deep gash on the right side of his forehead, brushing along his split left cheek and jaw and blood trickled down his chin from a large crack in the corner of his bottom lip. His hair looked wet, his skin so pale, the dirt and bruising on his face washing out his color completely with dark bags under eyes filled with pain. 

“Joe, Len,” Barry started and they could already see the tears begin to well in his eyes. “By the time you get this, it’s been nearly three full days since I went missing. Three days without food, without water. Three days and you still h-haven’t found me. These will probably be the last things I’ll get to say to you.”

It was obvious Barry was reciting a prepared speech. He sounded so tired, pausing as he gathered himself as best as he could. 

“For Captain of the CCPD, you would think you’d be able to find your own son, Joe. But then again, I’m not really your..your kid. And if you loved me like your own, you’d have found me...by now.” Tears spilled over his eyes as he spoke and Joe knew it was crushing Barry to say things he didn’t mean, things meant to hurt him that Joe would never believe came from his heart. “But you haven’t. Because you don’t care enough, I’ve been here for three days, starved and beaten. And it’s because of you I’m here to begin with. The truth is, I would have been better off if you’d never taken me in. You sent my...my dad to prison and were wrong about him. I’ve been paying for your mistakes ever since.”

Barry bit the corner of his bottom lip, eyes hidden behind rolling tears as they tracked through the dirt and blood on his face. Joe couldn’t stop his own tears watching Barry in pain, being used as a pawn in Mardon’s sick game, wishing he could reach out to him and provide just a little comfort. Barry was his family, his love, his heart, and for Mardon to use that and twist it, Joe could only hope Barry wouldn’t feel guilty, would know Joe was proud of him for doing what he needed to hold on till they could get to him.

“Len,” Barry closed his eyes, breathing through a sob that was fighting to force its way out. But in all his strength and conviction, Barry took a deep breath and looked at the camera, a look that said he had to get through this. Whatever Mardon was threatening with him or had done to him, had broken something in the young man. 

“Being with you is the biggest mistake I could have made. I should have known I wouldn’t be safe with you, that you would bring me nothing but p-pain.”

Barry continued with the rest of the speech, his crumbling voice barely managing to relay his kidnapper's words.

“There’s no future with you. I could never build a life with you here, could never build a home with you here. I could never really lo-love you. You’re a criminal, no better than your-“

Barry inhaled sharply before he could finish the sentence, eyes moving to stare past the camera, disbelief in his eyes quickly turning to fear before looking back to them on the screen.

“You’re no better than your fa-“ Suddenly, the fear in his eyes turned to defiance as he cried out. “No. No, Len, I love you. Joe, I’m sorry. Don’t come for-“

His words came spilling out rapidly as they heard a scuffle behind the camera before Mardon crossed in front of the screen and with a closed fist, backhanded Barry across the side of his face, his body being thrown off the chair to the floor. 

“Barr!” Joe shouted, knowing it was a recording, that neither Mardon nor Barry could hear him but unable to stop it, slamming his fist onto the desk and standing up, the chair going flying behind him. 

“You just don’t listen, do you?” Mardon shouted down at Barry who lay on his side on the floor, landing a kick to his ribs causing Barry to cry out. “You want them to hear you?”

Mardon scowled at the camera then, rage mixing with amusement. 

“How badly do you want to hear his voice? Do you want to hear him badly enough that you would listen to him scream?”

They watched as Barry tried to move away but his bound limbs were not cooperating. When Mardon lifted his foot up from the ground, they watched as Barry tried to brace himself for the impact to his ribs again, curling his body into itself. It was only at the last second that they all realized, including Barry on the footage, what Mardon was aiming for as his foot came down to his leg, the heel of his boot smashing into the wounded knee and Barry couldn’t stop the animalistic scream that ripped itself from his throat.

Mardon took a moment to glower at his crying captive before turning to face the camera. He said nothing, just smirked cruelly before reaching forward and the screen went dark. 

Joe scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the own tears he had shed, willing himself to try to calm down. The room was silent as they stared at the blank screen, no one sure what to say, what they could say, after what they’d just watched. Caitlin had a hand on Joe’s arm, tears rolling down her own cheeks as Cisco hid his face in his hands. It would be Len who would break the silence. 

“Why wouldn’t he just say it?” Len asked, voice quiet, stunned, staring at the screen that was still blank. He knew what the rest of Barry’s sentence was, that he was just like his father. It was a brutal blow, something Len feared of ever becoming. But Len knew Barry didn’t mean it. What he couldn’t understand is why Barry wouldn’t just say it to save himself more pain. 

“He didn’t want to hurt you,” Caitlin supplied, her voice just as quiet, soft in her sympathy for him and words thick through her own tears at watching her friend suffer through what they just witnessed. 

“He knew we would know he didn’t mean any of it,” Joe sighed, turning to face Len who still stared blankly at the screen with his brow furrowed. “He knows that I’d move heaven and earth for him, that I love him as a son. Just like he knows that you know he loves you, wants to build a life with you. But he’s Barry. He acts with his heart and he wouldn’t risk his last words being something he knew would haunt you.”

Len looked up at him suddenly, eyes widening. 

“He said he could never build a life ‘here’, build a home ‘here’,” Len muttered, leaning over where Cisco sat to restart the footage.

“Snart, he didn’t mean it, man,” Cisco tried to placate the man but Snart wasn’t hearing him. He watched the screen intently, looking past Barry’s heartbroken expression to pause at a moment where Barry bowed his head to fight through a sob. With a few taps of the keys, Len was able to zoom into a spot past Barry’s shoulder to the corner of what looked like faded and peeling brocade wallpaper. Wallpaper he’d seen before.

“Son of a bitch!” Len pushed away from the desk, pulling his cold gun from his holster. “I know where he is. Give me that damn breach thing.”

Caitlin ran to the nearby shelving unit where the inter-dimensional extrapolator was, quickly tossing it to Leonard who barely hesitated a moment before punching in the coordinates. A breach opened up in front of them and Len didn’t wait to see if anyone would follow him before jumping through. 

He landed inside the main foyer of the house, heard Joe call out behind him before hearing the breach close. With both of their guns raised, Joe and Len made their way through the house, searching the empty rooms on the first floor before heading upstairs. 

Sweeping their weapons through each open door, searching for Mardon, Barry, any inkling that anyone was here, their search stopped as they entered the room with the wallpaper from the video, where a chair stood by a table, another chair broken and collapsed on the floor, streaks of blood staining the old wood floors. 

On the table was a piece of paper, the words they’d heard Barry say scrawled across it like a script. But next to it was a Polaroid photo of Barry tied up, blindfolded and gagged inside the open trunk of a car. The words scrawled on the bottom of the picture ‘too late’ mocking them. 

“Fuck!” Len kicked at the table, clenching his eyes shut as he brought the cold gun up to his forehead, trying to compose himself from icing the entire room just because he could. 

“They’re gone. He must have sent the video after they left,” Joe holstered his gun, trying to keep the defeat from consuming him as he searched around the now empty room that had housed Barry for days. “Where are we Snart?”

“He must have followed me. I can usually spot a tail but I’ve been distracted. Damnit!” Len shouted, ignoring Joe, grabbing the photo of Barry and pocketing it. He would be damned if he left it behind, left him behind.

“Snart, where are we?” Joe asked again, voice firm. Len finally turned to him, his expression a mix of anger and grief that created stark lines on his face.

“It was going to be a surprise for Barry.”

_________________________________________

Barry had no idea how long he’d spent in this new location. It could have been hours, could have been days between when he first woke up here and now.

After being knocked out during Mardon’s sick video message, the next thing Barry knew was opening his eyes where he was now. His surroundings had slowly come into focus, head pounding, body aching and the fact that his senses were slow to reengage was a clear sign of a concussion. Wherever this new prison was, it was cold and hard to see, the air musty, His eyes were slow to adjust to the dim lighting. Of what he could see, the room was basement-like, dirt floor, some tall rusted metal shelving the corner that was sparsely stocked with rolls of duct tape, coils of rope, and old tools ranging from hammers to pliers that made Barry shudder at the idea of the damage they could do in Mardon’s hands. Looking up, he saw his wrists bound together, suspended above him, the rope lead pulled and tied to an old wood ceiling beam. He sat with legs twisted to the side, rope still holding them together at his ankles. His only bit of relief that at least he wasn’t gagged.

Mardon hadn’t come to see him since they relocated and Barry was torn between the comfort of being left alone without more torture and the suffocating silence of being trapped somewhere tied up with no one knowing where to find him. 

He kept fading in and out, alternating between trying to get free and giving in to his exhaustion as he leaned his forehead against the raised right arm by his head. He would twist his wrists, tug at the knots, trying with everything that he had to break free of the ropes, despite the pain and near numbness in his suspended limbs. He hadn’t stopped struggling despite his injuries since he was taken. It was harder now than it was before and had been taking its toll quickly, but he wasn’t willing to give up. He wouldn’t give up until there was no fight left in him. He was exhausted from the struggle, thirsty, hungry, and sore. His lips were aching at the corners, where the gag had been pulled at them for days, his wrists were raw and chafed from the tight ropes, his legs nearly numb. Still, he kept up his struggle. 

His solitude was interrupted eventually when Barry heard footsteps approaching from behind the old door. He shivered, anticipating the anxiety of what was in store for him next but quickly pushed it down, locking his eyes with a steely stare as the door swung open, Mardon entering the room.

“Ah, Allen,” he grinned mockingly, “miss me?”

Barry swallowed, doing his best to keep his emotions out of his expression, his pain, his fear, just how bone-tired he was. 

“Where are we?” He asked, voice raspy and quiet, his throat dry and raw. Mardon didn’t bother to close the door behind him and since he wasn’t gagged, it led him to believe they were somewhere isolated from anyone who could hear them, anyone who could help him.

“Where this all began,” Mardon responded, sounding way too nonchalant for someone who had kidnapped and tortured a person for days. “Which is kind of funny considering where we were before was more about your future.”

“What do you mean?” Barry questioned, confusion evident as Mardon squatted down in front of him to meet Barry’s eye level.

“You mean you didn’t recognize that house? Oh, that’s right, you never saw it in person,” Mardon’s laugh was hard and cold, the grin on his face infuriating Barry. “That house was for sale and had a bid on it by none other than Leonard Snart. I followed him there about a week ago, watched him leave with a smile on his face. I guess it was supposed to be a surprise for you. Although with what’s happened there these past few days, I don’t think those were quite the memories Snart thought you’d be making there.”

“Bastard,” Barry bit out through clenched teeth, lunging at Mardon, pulling at the ropes on his wrists, wishing he could get any leverage. But his body was sluggish, he still couldn’t feel his connection to the speed force which meant Mardon had brought the meta dampener with them to the new location. Or maybe after days of no food, no water, and bleeding from his knee, his body was just too weak to heal itself. 

Mardon just shrugged, unfazed by Barry’s insult but clearly amused by his struggling as he stood up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two bandanas and Barry groaned, knowing what was coming.

“Don’t worry, kid, it’s almost over. It's been twenty-four hours since I sent them that video of you. A full day with no word from me about your condition,” Mardon said, towering over where Barry half-sat on the floor looking up at his captor. “They’re desperate enough now that one call letting them know where we are and they’ll come running.”

As Mardon crouched down in front of him again, reaching for his face, Barry was struck with a sudden realization.

Barry jerked his head away, glaring up at Mardon, “We’re at the farm. The one Joe found you and your brother the night the particle accelerator blew.”

“Also where Clyde was killed. Seemed like a fitting place to get my revenge,” Mardon shrugged again, that grin on his face and Barry was struck with rage. 

“You want your revenge, just kill me. Leave Joe and Len alone,” Barry glared, defiance burning in his eyes, masking the fear he was feeling. When Mardon chuckled, Barry just continued. “I’m the reason Clyde is dead. I was there that night. Joe shot your brother because he was going to shoot me. I’m the reason he’s dead. And I’m the reason the Rogues are disbanded, I influenced Len to go straight. You want someone to blame for everything, blame me!”

Barry was all but shouting, Mardon’s face turning from amusement to anger as he listened to Barry shoulder the blame. Barry knew his words weren’t going to change Mardon’s plans but he had to try anything to keep Joe and Len safe. He had no success in trying to escape before, he wouldn’t be able to now in the condition he was in, but what he could do was try to deflect his captor’s anger. He’d try whatever he had to if it meant keeping the people he loved safe.

“You stupid bastard, they’re gonna either haul your ass back to Iron Heights or ice you so you might as well just kill me now-“

His words came to a rushing halt when a fist crashed into his temple. The force of the punch snapped his head to the side, his vision flickering with the hit for a second. Barry gasped, blinking rapidly, his ears rushing and head pounding as his vision fell back into view. 

He pulled his head up, slowly, locking eyes with Mardon but not saying anything.  
The next punch was to the midsection. Barry coughed as the air was forced out of him, doubling over as much as he could restrained the way he was. He hadn’t a chance to catch his breath before a second punch in the same spot connected with his abdomen, feeling the ribs crack under the blow, unable to fight back the cry that escaped as pain radiated through his torso. 

A fist to his face caught his nose and Barry could taste the blood. He coughed again, spitting out the fresh blood that trickled down from his nose into his mouth. A second punch to the other side of his face had his vision doubling to the point where he had to squeeze his eyes shut, breathing through the wave of nausea and pain. 

His body jerked against the restraints as his body reflexively moved with the punches, pulling against the restraints, cutting into his wrists. Before Barry could even think about begging Mardon to stop, another fist caught him in the abdomen once more, the pain blinding, blood rushing in his ears.

Mardon suddenly yanked Barry’s head back by his hair and Barry couldn’t help but cry out, breathing heavy and stuttered, eyes trying to stay open as Mardon laughed above him. 

“Nice try, kid,” Mardon whispered, tugging on Barry’s hair hard again and when Barry opened his mouth to cry out in pain, Mardon shoved a wadded up bandana in his mouth. It filled his cheeks and caused Barry to retch slightly. Quickly Mardon let go of his hair and with both hands forced a rolled-up bandana between his teeth, wrapping the cloth around his head and pulled the ends into an excruciatingly tight knot.

Barry swore at him, muffled words barely making an impact behind the gag and Mardon pat him on the cheek. His eyes were menacing as he gripped Barry’s chin between his thumb and fingers, squeezing as he spoke low, inches from his face.

“I’m gonna call your boyfriend now. He’s gonna come try to save you, bring your dad with him. I’m gonna kill you while they watch, then I’m gonna kill them. The only thing your confession did, other than being a stupid attempt at trying to spare them, was change the fact that now instead of you just being collateral damage, I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

_________________________________________

Twenty-four hours after they received the video found Len in pretty much the same place he’d been since Barry had been taken. Feeling useless, sitting in the Cortex, searching for answers. 

He had hit the streets earlier with his cold gun strapped to his leg, clad in his parka and goggles, shaking down every contact he had, every ally he knew Mardon had worked with and no one knew anything. Mardon hadn’t included anyone in this job so there were no loose ends. After getting a little too violent with a former member of the Mardon brothers’ crew, he was strongly encouraged by Team Flash to stay at the Labs in case Mardon reached out again. 

So here he was scouring the traffic cams and satellite imagery for any trace of Mardon, the Shelby Mustang, or Barry. After they found the house empty, Joe and the CCPD were back to scouting locations from a list of potential previous hideouts they had originally searched when Barry had first been taken. The first was the farm where Clyde was killed, the second an old warehouse located just outside of town that used to be an old safe house, and the third an apartment leased under the name of one of his aliases. The farm was nearly an hour's drive outside of the city and seemed unlikely based on Mardon transporting Barry from the house, and the apartment building certainly didn’t provide much privacy for torturing someone, leaving the warehouse the most likely based on Mardon’s m.o. But all the locations had been checked, a police team dispatched to each the warehouse, the farm, and the apartment, and had turned up nothing. He had little confidence in the CCPD, unable to catch Len in his prime until the Flash came along. Even though he trusted West now, Len just knew they were missing something, they may arrest criminals but they didn’t think like them.

“You’re starting to do that thing Allen does,” Ralph said from behind him as he entered the Cortex. Len had heard him coming but didn’t spare him a glance as he just clicked through the cameras. “Barry does this thing where he thinks so loudly about something being his fault that you can practically hear it echoing in these large halls. Super annoying.” 

Len rolled his eyes and continued to ignore Dibny as he came around the other side of the console from where he sat, leaning against the front.

“Mostly ‘cause there’s usually nothing about it that’s his fault. Sometimes things just happen, and sometimes they involve the people we care about.” 

Len could feel Ralph’s eyes on him as he spoke even though Len didn’t look away from the screen he was staring at. He knew what he was doing; it was what every member of Team Flash had been doing in their own time after finding out about their relationship. Len hadn’t expected to be so accepted into the fold, and he certainly hadn’t expected them to reach out to him with kindness. But those were do-gooders for you. It made him uncomfortable to be treated so kindly. 

“Shouldn’t you be hitting the street, Long Man?” Len mocked, still not looking up. 

“Elongated Man. But you know that,” Ralph corrected, recognizing the snark as a self-defense mechanism because he was guilty of it himself at times. He paused briefly before continuing. “Look, Snart-“

“Lemme guess,” Len snapped, interrupting, finally glancing up at the man who just continued to lean across the desk, not the least bit phased by Len’s abruptness. “It’s not my fault. Everyone is looking for him. There’s good in me, more bullshit like that. The fact of the matter is, Dibny, I’m not a good man. And because Barry thought I was, he’s now paying for it.”

To his credit, Ralph didn’t flinch during Len’s tirade, just continued to stare at him from across the console. When Len returned to staring at the screen, Ralph let him settle for a moment before continuing.

“What I was going to say is I know what it’s like to be saved by Barry Allen, to not want to disappoint him,” Ralph sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, a resignation in his voice that felt familiar enough to Len that he finally made eye contact with the other man.

“Barry’s the one that caught me in the lie that got me fired from the CCPD. And despite that, he’s the one that gave me the chance to redeem myself. He saw a hero when everyone saw an obnoxious dick. I went from hating his guts to loving him like a little brother,” as Ralph spoke his voice became tight and eyes filled with that mix of grief, determination, rage and hope, something that Len felt and saw reflected back to him in each member of Barry’s team, Barry’s family. “He saved me from myself, I think he did the same for you. He changes everything. I don’t know what it is about him, but just being a part of his life makes you a better person. And you like who you become. And then you never want to let him down, you want to make him proud, prove him right, and do everything you can to be there for him like he was for you.”

Len wanted to tell him to shut up, wanted to ice him for assuming he understood what Len was feeling. But the man did understand because Ralph had lived it himself. He’d been able to discover the best version of himself with the friendship, the love, the faith in him, given freely by Barry Allen, just like Len had. It wasn’t that Barry had necessarily changed either of them, but he changed the circumstances around them by giving them a hand to grab on to, a soft place to land, and a little bit of faith in that light inside them that few people had seen before. These weren’t just empty sentiments of reassurance, Ralph knew as well as Len did how powerful Barry’s love was, whether it was familial or romantic, Barry didn’t spare them all an ounce of it and they were better people for it. 

“What I’m saying is, Barry wouldn’t blame you for what’s happening to him. If anything, he’d somehow twist it to make it his fault. Just don’t get so wrapped up in what’s being done to him that you lose what he’s done to you, for you,” Ralph rocked back and forth on his heels. Barry had said Ralph was a good Detective, that he saw the world in a way Barry could rely on when he’d exhausted all his options. Len could see why. The man was surprisingly enlightened for a tall dope of a guy.

But before Len could thank him or tell him he was right or even get mad at him for the unsolicited conversation, his phone erupted loudly, vibrating violently on the desktop as the screen lit up from a blocked number.

“Mardon,” Len picked up quickly, shooting to his feet so fast the chair knocked over, not a shadow of doubt on who would be on the other end.

“Here’s the deal, Snart,” Mardon responded, the amusement in his voice that Len had become accustomed to was gone. His voice was low, cold, sinister even as he cut straight to the point. “Your boy isn’t doing so hot so I gotta fast forward this game so I can kill him before he dies on me and ruins all my fun. The cops were close but missed our hiding spot. We’re where this all began. You and West have one hour to find us or I’ll just kill him and hunt you both down.”

And just as abruptly as the phone call began, it ended. 

“Snart?” Ralph asked, fear in his eyes.

“He’s holding him at the farm where Joe shot Clyde Mardon,” Len announced, pocketing the phone, pulling the cold gun from his holster. 

“The CCPD checked there,” Ralph shook his head.

“Well they missed something,” Len searched for the extrapolator in the mess of evidence and papers the Cortex had become in their desperate search for Barry.

“Joe’s at Iron Heights interviewing an old cellmate of Mardon’s for information. That's at least a two hour trip from there to the farm,” Ralph ran a hand through his slicked hair, frowning when he saw that Len found the extrapolator. “Wait, we can go get Joe first with that. Or at least let me go with you for backup.”

“I’m not wasting any time to get to Barry. And Mardon’s probably still using the meta dampener,” Len dismissed as he put in the coordinates for the farm.

“Yeah, but I was a cop before I was a meta. I can help you,” Ralph went to follow as Len pointed the device out to open the breach.

“No, Dibny, you were right. Barry did save me from myself and I’d do anything to keep from disappointing him,” Len turned to face him. “Mardon won’t kill him till he has both me and West too. I go, try to get Barry out. Worst case scenario I get caught and it buys Joe some time to get there with the calvary. You get caught with me, he won’t hesitate to kill you. I won’t let him take away somebody Barry cares about.”

Ralph opened his mouth to protest but was cut off as Snart pointed his gun at him and iced his feet to the floor.

“Damnit, Snart!” Ralph swore, pulling at his feet but unable to free them.

“Call Joe, fill him in and have him meet me there so we can bring Barry home.” And with that Len opened the breach and jumped through to the other side. 

He arrived on the edge of the property, the cold wind of the crisp evening fall air blowing across the open space the only sound to be heard. The dark night provided the perfect cover for Len to make his way around the farm undetected. There was no way Mardon would have expected him to get here so fast. No lights were on in the farmhouse or barn but Len wasn’t expecting Mardon to be that dumb. 

He hadn’t put Barry on the phone to taunt him like he’d done before so there was a chance to find the young man alone. But where, that was the issue. The cops had searched every inch of the farmhouse, the barn, the silo, all of it but Len just knew they were missing something. He’d laid low in a farm similar to this once before in Keystone and knew there were sheds and storm cellars scattered across the property for various equipment or storage through the seasons, it was just about finding the right one. 

As he scanned the horizon, to his left about twenty yards he caught sight of tall grass blowing to the side revealing a set of cellar doors set into the ground at a slight angle on a hill. It was far removed from the main property, probably previously camouflaged by brush and overgrowth that the wind had only just revealed. Either Len got lucky or it was a trap, but he didn’t care. Barry was there, he felt it.

With a sudden surge of energy, Len ran across the field, skidding to a stop at the doors and yanked them open. Darkness greeted him and Len descended the old wooden stairs with as much cautiousness as he could as his eyes attempted to adjust to the black, nothing but the faint blue light of the barrel of his cold gun to light the way as he held it ready. 

Once he cleared the steps he made his way deeper into the cellar, feet making quiet and deliberate steps across the dirt floor. An old farm like this, it had to be a root cellar he was in, designed to preserve food during difficult seasons like freezing in the cold winter or spoiling in the summer heat. It was at least 10 feet deep into the ground, walls built of stud and board. On the wall to his right he saw what resembled a security system panel box, definitely a new addition to the cellar. A faint green light like a halo surrounded it and Len knew that was the meta dampener Mardon was using. He thought about disabling it for Barry to be able to use his powers but didn’t want to run the risk of Mardon using his. A few feet to the left of the panel, he saw a heavy wood door leading into another part of the cellar, a small beam of light barely creeping beneath the cracks in the wood and the gap at the floor. 

With an ear pressed against the door, Len listened for any sign of a threat on the other side but nothing was heard. With a gentle hand he pushed slightly on the door and heard the faint beginnings of a creak. No sneaking in with this one, this required a more forceful entry. Taking a step back, he readied his weapon and with a violent kick, forced the door to fly open. He swept the room directly ahead of him with his cold gun, searching for any threat but when his eyes landed on Barry’s frame in the center of the room, Len’s heart jumped into his throat, threatening to suffocate him.

Barry hung from his wrists tied together, raised above him with the rope stretched taut and tied off to a beam in the ceiling. He sat on the dirt floor with his legs to the side, bound at the ankles. His head hung, chin to chest. Len crossed the room in three strides as he stepped up to the suspended form, falling to his knees and dropping the cold gun beside him.

Len’s hands shook as he brought them to Barry’s neck, hesitating only briefly as if he was afraid of what he’d find before searching fingers were rewarded with a pulse beneath the jawline. Len nearly choked on a sob of relief. This close he noticed the slightest rise and fall of his chest but his breathing came rapidly. He moved his hands slowly and gently cradled Barry’s face with a delicate touch, tilting Barry’s head back to face his own. His lips were split around the gag pulled cruelly between his teeth, dried blood crusted at the corners of his mouth and beneath his nose. There was a trail of blood down his face and throat that started at the hairline above his right temple where a large gash was surrounded by a dark bruise.

His fingertips accidentally brushed against a dark blossoming bruise on his split left cheek, causing the speedster to stir into awareness.

“Scarlet,” Len whispered as he examined his lover’s face. He looked so much worse than the video from a day ago. Barry’s left eye was swollen and dark, the bruise spread out and covered almost his entire left side from his eye and across his cheek.

As Len moved one of his hands behind Barry’s head to untie the gag cleaving his mouth tightly, Barry jerked suddenly, eyes wild and unfocused. 

“Hey, hey, Scarlet,” Len said, cursing at the shakiness in his voice but hoping it was at least soothing the frightened man. His hand rested against the back of Barry’s head, warm fingers spread across the base of his skull, his other lightly stroked his cheek with a gentle thumb. “It’s me, Barry. It’s Len. I’m here.”

Barry’s eyes focused on him then, a small sound escaping the gag as tears sprang to his eyes. Once Barry stilled, Len moved both hands to reach behind his head and Barry felt the knot in the bandana tied through his jaw loosen. The thick roll of cloth fell away and Len let it drop to the floor. He slid a hand to cup the unbruised side of Barry’s face while the other hand gently pulled the wad of cloth stuffed inside his mouth, letting it too drop as he moved to rest that hand gently against Barry’s neck. Despite the relief at the ease in his jaw, Barry let out a pained sound.

“What are you doing here?” He sobbed as Len cradled his face between his hands tenderly. “You have to get out of here, he’ll kill you.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Scarlet,” Len whispered, his voice firm even though he could feel his whole body shaking.

“Len, you have to leave,” Barry cried, relief at having been found completely overshadowed by his fear for Len’s safety. “You have to leave. Please, just go.”

“Why are always asking me to leave you behind?” Len smiled through his own tears now. He knew Barry wanted to be saved, was crying in pain and relief, but like the bank, like the museum, even like the fight at the apartment, Barry was trying to save Len, willing him to not sacrifice himself for him, begging him to leave and to go somewhere safe, somewhere he couldn’t get hurt. What Barry failed to realize time and time again was that he was worth every risk. 

Barry sobbed again but leaned forward and Len couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips against his in a desperate yet gentle kiss. He could feel Barry kiss him back but heard the hitch in his breath.

Len reluctantly pulled away, petting Barry’s head tenderly, a delicate kiss to his dirty brow before pulling away completely. Grabbing a small knife he had hidden in an ankle holster in his boot, he reached up and began sawing at the rope suspending Barry’s bound wrists.

“Len, please. Just go,” Barry continued to beg, although his words were mumbled and soft. Len didn’t try to argue, concentrating on getting Barry down. As soon as the knife cut all the way through the rope lead, Len caught Barry’s bound wrists as they fell, the movement eliciting a strangled cry from the younger man. Len lowered them down gently and went to go cut the ties binding them together but dropped them and the knife when Barry began to fall forward. Len quickly caught him, placing his hands against Barry’s shoulders to keep him upright.

Barry glanced down before blinking up at Len, whispering weakly, “You’re hurt.” Len lifted a brow in confusion before realizing Barry had seen the bandages wrapped around his fist from when he had assaulted the monitors at S.T.A.R. Labs.

“Yeah well, so are you,” Len sighed, baffled that the man who was clearly ready to black out was pointing out the minor injury. Barry started to nod but his head fell forward again. Len quickly shifted his hands up to grip the sides of his face between them, holding Barry’s head up.

“Hey, hey, stay with me, baby,” Len begged, gently pushing Barry’s head back up. Barry’s eyes started to flutter closed. “No, Scarlet. Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

He could see Barry trying, losing the battle he was fighting to stay conscious. Barry’s eyes barely cracked open.

“Barry,” Len begged softly, hands gently stroking the flush cheeks. “Come on kid, stay with me.”

“You heard him, Barry,” a voice from behind him said, followed by the sound of the cocking of a gun. “You gotta stay with us. Our fun’s not over yet.”

Still holding onto Barry, Len quickly glanced down, his cold gun to his right, the knife to his left, both within reach but in clear sight of the person behind him. He was quick, but not Flash quick, not quick enough to reach for either of them before Mardon could fire off a shot. 

“Uh-uh, don’t even think about it. Not unless you want a bullet in your head. Or your little boyfriend’s,” Mardon chided. Len gritted his teeth as Mardon moved closer until he felt the muzzle of the gun resting against the back of his head. From behind him, Mardon kicked the cold gun further away before doing the same with the knife, leaving Len weaponless. 

“I’m sorry,” Barry sobbed quietly, and Len just shook his head, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Mardon circled around them till he was behind Barry, standing over them, grinning at Len as he glared up at him. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Len growled through clenched teeth.

“No, you won’t. You don’t have the stones anymore,” Mardon replied, before motioning with his gun to the bandanas on the floor. “Now, gag your boyfriend.”

“No,” Len didn’t blink, defiant. Mardon pushed the gun against Barry’s temple and Barry cringed, eyes staring, pleading with Len.

“Len, please,” Barry sniffed and Len knew Barry wasn’t begging on his own behalf, he was pleading with him to cooperate so Mardon wouldn’t hurt Len. He sighed and picked up the abandoned bandana from the floor, looking at the cloth in his hands then back up at Barry who just nodded. 

Len leaned forward, sliding one hand in between Barry’s bound ones, squeezing as he pressed a quick kiss to Barry’s lips. 

“I love you,” Len said. 

“I know,” Barry smiled through the pain, through the tears, trying to reassure Len. He parted his lips as Len gently brought the balled up cloth to his mouth. Barry couldn’t help the faint moan as his jaws distended around the fabric as Len reluctantly prodded it behind his teeth. Len then grabbed the other bandana and went to cover Barry’s mouth when Mardon interrupted.

“Between the teeth. Nice. And. Tight,” he ordered as he tapped the barrel of the gun against Barry’s head with each word. Len glared up at him before focusing apologetic eyes on Barry, taking the folded bandana and pressing the middle between Barry’s teeth, wrapping the ends around his head to pull them into a tight knot at the base of Barry’s skull. When he finished, he slowly brought his hands from behind Barry’s head, long fingers brushing lightly over his cheek and across lips, nearly circumventing the cloth and trying to provide just a little bit of comfort to Barry. Barry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, his whimper stifled by the gag.

“Touching. Now stand up and back up,” Mardon ordered, shifting to point the gun at Len now, following his movements as Len got to his feet, taking two steps back from Barry who was barely holding himself upright with his bound hands braced against the floor.

As Mardon circled around Barry, it was almost in slow motion as Barry threw his body to the left, knocking Mardon’s momentum and causing the man to stumble. Len took the opportunity and lunged suddenly, grabbing for the gun but not before Mardon kicked out, his foot landing against Barry’s ribs. Barry’s face screwed up in an agonized grimace, fighting his hardest not to pass out as he bit down on the gag. 

Mardon stumbled backward, tripping over Barry who was now curled up in pain on the floor but somehow kept his grip on the gun. Mardon brought it up and swung the butt end towards Len’s head but Len ducked and reached for the gun again. Mardon dodged and Len fell forward, Mardon kicked out Len’s legs from beneath him, Len stumbling, colliding with the wall. He heard Barry’s muffled shout and Len turned just in time to see Mardon inches away from his own face and swing the gun at his head before everything went black. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out for after the blow but when he could feel himself coming to, Len rested where he was silently, listening to the room, getting his bearings on his current situation, trying to gauge what was going on so he could prepare for what was to come. 

The first thing he became aware of was that his head was pounding. Past that, he could feel his body pressed back against a metal, hands bound in front of him by duct tape, more tape wrapped around his chest and arms, restraining him to something. And judging by the compression he felt against his lips, he was gagged with tape as well. The smell told him he was in the same cellar he’d found Barry in, so it must be the metal rack in the corner he was stuck to. What he heard though is what told him it was time to open his eyes, the sound of Mardon snickering and Barry moaning in pain.

Blinking away his blurry vision, Len groaned as to draw Mardon’s attention away from his lover.

“Look, Allen, he’s decided to join us,” he heard Mardon laugh and Len looked up to find the voice, eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

Mardon was standing just a few feet away with Barry behind him against the far wall. Barry’s arms were spread wide, nearly straight out to the side suspended from the ceiling by thick rope around the wrists, his sneaker-clad feet that barely touched the dirt floor tied together by more rope at the ankles. 

The blood-splattered remains of the gray T-shirt he’d been wearing for days now hung in tattered strips from his body, the blue plaid shirt slashed at the arms and chest area. Dozens of shallow cuts and slices littered his torso, all of them oozing through the remnants of the fabric, all of them appearing only deep enough to be painful, that would have healed in minutes if not for his powers being dampened. His face battered, gagged tightly enough that it split the sides of his mouth, certainly tighter than Len had tied it, his eyes closed as his head hung forward limply, chin resting on the bruised chest.

But even more disturbing, Barry was pinned to the wall, a knife piercing through the center of each of his hands. It was like a butterfly pinned on display or a twisted play on an iconic image, the sacrifice of a man just trying to bring light to a world that didn’t deserve him. Len never considered himself to be even remotely a spiritual man, but seeing the man he loved like this, he felt sick to his stomach and couldn’t help the prayer that sprung to his mind.

“You haven’t been out long, but Barry and I had a little fun while we waited. Right, Allen?” Mardon said as he twirled a knife in his fingers. Len watched as Mardon slid the blade across the top of Barry’s ribcage on his left slide, slicing through what was left of the fabric of his shirt, blood oozing quickly. He watched Barry take deep breaths through his nose, trying his best not to show his pain, eyes clenched tightly. Len was both proud and horrified by Barry’s persistent stubbornness, even after all he’d already been through. He couldn’t imagine the kind of pain Barry was in with those blades in his hands, being used as a carving board, not to mention the wounded knee and the beating he’d obviously endured. But despite the fact that Barry was a brave hero, he was still only human, and his resolve lasted for two more small cuts below the first one across his ribcage, breathing through with only a slight groan escaping. And when Mardon reached up and slid the knife across Barry’s left bicep through the plaid shirt, Barry couldn’t stop the scream that came forward around the stuffing in his mouth. 

“There it is. That’s what I was looking for,” Mardon smiled cruelly at Barry, addressing Len even though he grabbed Barry tightly by the chin, staring into his pain-filled green eyes. “Ya know, Snart, I’ve been telling him for days now things would go a lot easier for him if he’d just cooperate. You got a real hard-headed boyfriend.”

He let go of Barry then, his head falling to his chest as Mardon stepped back, wiping the knife on the thigh of Barry’s already stained pant leg before placing it in his waistband.

“What do you think of my display, Snart?” Mardon turned to Len, crouching down till he was eye level with his newest captive. “I figured the classic imagery of sacrifice was appropriate, young kid suffering for the sins of the father and all that. West will appreciate the display when he finally arrives. I had to make my own appropriate additions, of course, X marks the spot and all.”

It was then Len noticed two very large gashes on Barry’s chest, thicker than the other cuts, crisscrossed like x’s and from the way they dripped blood, fresh and deep, much deeper than the others. If not for the tape pressed over Len’s lips, he’d tell Mardon what a sick fuck he was. Well, honestly he’d probably snark about how he was mixing up his bible verses first just to be an ass and then he would tell him off. 

“Ya see, Clyde was killed by two gunshot wounds,” Mardon said, standing up to pace the short distance between where Len was bound and Barry was suspended. “One about here,” he pointed with the knife to the ‘X’ at Barry’s left side of his chest right above his heart before moving to point at the middle of his chest to the right below his heart, “and one here. Both by West’s gun. All though I recently found out that it was to save little Barry’s life.”

Suddenly Mardon reached up to grab at the back of Barry’s skull, fingers pulling the hair and yanking his head back. Barry gasped in pain, eyes flying open as he watched Mardon raise the knife in front of his face. Barry felt the flat side of the blade slide gently down his cheek, the cold metal warmed by his own blood already coating it, staining his already bloody face as Mardon caressed his cheek with it before pressing it against his throat. 

“Your foster dad killed my brother to save you. This is all your fault, isn’t that right Allen?” Mardon sneered, putting enough pressure on the blade to just nick the skin where a small amount of blood began to spill. 

Len shouted behind the tape, causing Mardon to snap his head in his direction, the knife still pressed against Barry’s throat. Mardon eyed Len up and down before his attention directed back at Barry whose Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed, his neck straining painfully with the pull Mardon still had on his hair. And just like that, Mardon lowered the knife and dropped his grip on Barry’s hair, his head falling limp once again as he panted through his nose in temporary relief. 

Mardon took two large strides, tucking the knife in the front of his waistband once more before squatting down in front of Len, reaching up to pull the tape quickly from his mouth. 

“Let him go,” Len immediately spoke, his tone nothing short of demanding. “You have me, West is on his way, you’ve made your damn point. Now let him go!” 

“You really have gone soft,” Mardon looked him up and down as if with pity. “Was it worth giving up all you were, the reputation you built, the gold and glory, for this kid?”

“He’s worth everything,” Len spat. The openness of his sentimentality did nothing to undercut the delivery of his statement. He knew he was playing right into Mardon’s mind games but was uncaring at this point. The man he loved was bleeding out a mere two feet away and Len just needed Mardon an inch or two closer. 

“Pathetic,” Mardon chuckled but Len didn’t miss Mardon swallowing uncomfortably before trying to hide the brief fear of the threat Len’s voice held. 

“Yes, you are,” Len kept his eyes on Mardon, his voice hard and exaggerated as Captain Cold emerged. Any idea of Len having gone soft and losing all his edge would be retracted upon hearing his voice, cold as steel with underlying power. “You went as far as to dampen your own powers instead of using them to prove your point but all you’ve done is proven mine. You’re a thug, nothing more.”

Suddenly Mardon’s fist connected with his jaw, a metallic flavor filling Len’s mouth. A spit of blood escaped his mouth when his head snapped with the hit but he quickly turned to grin bloodily at the man’s enraged face.

“My apologies. You’re more than just a thug. You’re also a sick bastard with no originality.”

The second hit was expected but still sent his head whipping to the side. Mardon packed a punch, he’d give him that. But Mardon also gave him exactly what he needed. 

“Big talk for someone who’s about to watch me kill-Ahhh!” Mardon went to stand up from where he was hunched over Snart when a scream ripped from his throat and wild eyes met his before looking down to where the knife was now buried to the hilt in his stomach.

“Shoulda tied my arms behind my back,” Len smiled, pulling with both hands the knife from Mardon’s stomach, kicking out his legs to knock Mardon over to the floor. 

He had swiped the small knife while Mardon hand hunched over him to gloat, eliciting the punches that distracted Mardon while he reached for the blade tucked carelessly in his belt. The man was cocky, underestimated Len, and clearly not aware of his pickpocketing skills. “Amateur.”

“CCPD freeze!” Came the booming baritone of Joe West as he came running into the room, gun ready, just as Len turned the bloody knife towards his body and awkwardly began slicing through the duct tape around his wrists. Joe was followed by Ralph Dibny who held one of those fancy pulse rifles he’d seen at S.T.A.R. Labs. As Joe kicked Mardon over to his side so he could cuff him, hearing the bastard let out a scream as the knife injury was jarred, Dibny came to a pause in front of Len.

“Go check on Barry,” Len shook his head, sawing at the duct tape, thankful for the thick sleeves of his coat that protected his arms from the haphazard awkwardness of cutting his own bindings. 

Len watched as Ralph didn’t wait to be told twice and took the few strides to where Barry hung limp against the wall.

“Jesus, Rookie,” Ralph breathed as he got a good look at Barry. He looked thinner than he did five days ago but maybe it was the dirt and blood and ghostly paleness of his skin that made him look so. He was sweating, trembling, crying silently, probably from the evident pain of the knife wounds. The front of what was left of his shirt was covered with blood, still wet, and the fact that Barry was still awake, even if barely, told Ralph as well as Len who watched as he finally freed his hands, that Barry had been running on fumes of fear. Now that Mardon was apprehended and he could see Len and Joe both safe, those fumes were running out.

“You no-good son of a bitch!” 

The roar that erupted from Joe stole both Ralph and Len’s attention from Barry as they whipped their heads to see Joe pummeling a cuffed Mardon. 

Len was able to finally cut himself free of the tape around his waist to the post and the tape around his ankles with ease now that his hands were unbound and he quickly raised to his feet. Len motioned to Ralph to stay with Barry while he ran over to where Joe now hovered over Mardon, the officer’s gun pointed at him as he scowled up from where he lay on his back. 

“You think this is funny? Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your head!” Joe yelled, his reaction clearly a response to something Mardon had said.

“Joe, don’t,” Len barked, standing behind the cop. 

“You asked me before what I would do to save my family. He’ll come after him again,” Joe spoke low, pressing the gun against Mardon’s head, not tearing his wild eyes away from where his finger hovered over the trigger. 

Len slowly walked around to stand at Mardon’s head, squatting down till he was eye level with Joe. He couldn’t blame the man; he would like nothing more than to kill Mardon himself for what he’d done to Barry, the desire second only to wanting to hold Barry and never let him out of his sight ever again, to make sure he was safe, happy. He couldn’t do that if the man Barry revered as a father killed a defenseless man, no matter how much he deserved to be punished. It broke Barry’s moral code, something he’d enforced on Len, something Len was certain Barry had learned from the man currently holding the gun.

“You also told me you’d do whatever you had to for your son. He’s going to need his family, his dad, after this,” Len said evenly, no desperation or anger, just succinct. “You kill him, it doesn’t matter what good you’ve done. You can’t wash that blood off your hands, believe me. And you’re a good man so you’ll turn yourself in and go to prison and you can’t be there for Barry then.”

He watched as the finger moved away from the trigger but the gun still hovered over Mardon’s brow, staring up at him not with fear but with a challenge. But the challenge being presented to Joe now from Len was more pressing, even more difficult when Len continued. 

“He’s already had to live with one father behind bars for half of his life. Don’t make him do that again. He’s been through enough.”

Joe pulled the gun away instantly and looked up to Len across him, nodding. It wasn’t gratitude for stopping him from doing something he’d regret because Joe would not feel remorse for taking Mardon out. It was gratitude to Len for reminding him of what was more important. Barry. 

“Ralph, keep an eye on him,” Joe kept his gun pointed at Mardon until Ralph came over who quickly placed a boot on Mardon’s side and kept his own gun trained on the criminal out of precaution.

Len, still holding the knife that he’d taken from Mardon, the knife he’d stabbed him with and used to free himself, the knife that had been used to torture Barry, moved with quick steps to where Barry still hung from the ropes, still pinned to the wall with knives through his hands. His head hung, his breathing shallow and eyes closed. Ralph had cut the ropes at his ankles and removed the smothering gag, the fabric hanging loose around his neck now and the other cloth abandoned on the floor. 

Len reached for the rope that secured Barry’s left wrist to the beam above but a hand on his arm stopped him.

“We have to get him down,” Len snapped, uncaring how desperate and broken he sounded, pulling his arm away from Joe roughly. 

“Yes we do,” Joe said, his turn to be the calm voice of reason, “but if we cut the ropes before we remove the knives pinning him to the wall they’ll be the only things supporting his weight and it will tear through his hands.”

Len nodded and turned to face Barry but was sidestepped by Joe, so quickly you’d almost think he had super speed. 

“Barry, I need you to listen to me,” Joe spoke softly, hands braced on the sides of Barry’s neck, frowning at the amount of heat his son was giving off. Taking a deep breath and composing himself, Joe ducked his head to meet Barry’s closed eyes that slowly began to open at hearing his dad’s voice, “Can you hear me, son?”

Barry’s head lifted slightly in Joe’s gentle hold, eyes struggling to focus before nodding.

“We’re going to get you down but we have to get those knives out of your hands first,” Joe instructed him slowly and confidently, watching his son’s eyes to make sure he was hearing him. “I’m going to put the gag back in so you can bite down on it okay? Do you understand, Barry?”

Barry opened his mouth just slightly as if he was about to say something. Instead, he closed his eyes, tongue flicking out briefly to moisten his dry, cracked lips, nodding a little stronger this time in response but still not saying anything. Joe brought the fabric up from around his neck to Barry's already parted lips and gently pushed it between his teeth. Barry couldn’t stop the whimper as he bit down on the cloth, looking up at Joe with a determined stare and nodding again. 

“That’s good, Barr,” Joe whispered, forcing a smile as he patted his hand against Barry’s non bruised cheek. While Joe spoke, Len had watched the exchange from beside them, hands bracing Barry’s left arm, thumb stroking the skin on Barry’s wrist below the ropes, waiting for Joe’s go ahead. 

“This is going to hurt, son, but you’ll get through it. You’re strong,” Joe whispered, watching as Barry allowed his head to fall back against the wall he was pinned to before nodding again. 

“I’ll get the blades. Hold him,” Len croaked, grimacing at the sound of his voice. Len didn’t want to cause the man he loved any pain, wanted nothing more than to comfort him and hold him close as he suffered, reassuring Barry that he was there for him, but based on how Barry was responding, he needed his father right now. And when Joe nodded his thanks at him, clearly swallowing down his emotions for the sake of his son, Len knew that Joe needed this just as much as Barry did. 

“Stay focused on me, Barr,” Joe insisted, hands cupping Barry’s cheeks again as he brought his forehead close to Barry’s, hearing the quickening shallow breathing as Barry braced for the incoming pain. “On three, Leonard.”

Len counted down softly and with a quick firm move, he pulled the first blade from Barry’s left hand. Barry screamed behind the gag, trying to pull away from the hold Joe had on his face but instead the older man pressed his forehead to his, whispering comforting nothings as Barry let out strangled whimpers behind the gag, nose panting heavily with fresh tears cutting through the tracks already disrupting the streaks of dirt and blood on his cheeks. Len was quick to move to the other hand, eager to rid the tortured young man of his current pain, even if it meant causing him more. On another three count, Len unsheathed the blade from Barry’s right hand, but this time all that could be heard in response was a low, strangled cry as Barry lost consciousness completely, head listing to the side in Joe’s grasp.

Joe released a stuttering breath and kissed the uninjured cheek of the now unconscious man before pulling away, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and moving to tie it around Barry’s left palm in an effort to stem the blood flow. Len looked down at himself and used the knife in his hand to cut a strip from the hem of his shirt and followed Joe’s lead, tying it around the right bleeding palm. 

“I’ll cut the ropes, you catch him,” Joe ordered and Len didn’t waste a second moving to support Barry. It made sense, Len was younger and stronger than Joe, but a few days ago Len knew Joe would never have even suggested Len put his hands on his son. But there was no hesitation from either of them, no thoughts other than Barry as Len wrapped his right arm around Barry’s lean body, his left gently bracing Barry’s right outstretched arm. 

“I’ve got you, Scarlet,” Len whispered to the passed out man as Joe cut through the first rope, supporting Barry’s weight. Len eased the limb’s descent as it dropped without the sudden suspension, gently lowering it down to Barry’s side to hang, trying not to look at the bleeding wound dripping from Barry’s palm beneath the makeshift bandage or the bright red welts peeking out from where the rope still wound around his wrist. 

Joe moved to the other side, reaching up to cut at the rope suspending his left arm. Len wrapped his arms tighter around Barry’s unresponsive body as Joe braced the limb gently, noticing the injured shoulder by the way it swelled and distorted. And with a snap, Barry was down, body limp as he collapsed deeper into Len’s hold. He tucked Barry’s head against his shoulder, tightening his hold, begging him with whispers to keep breathing as he felt the shallow rapid breaths against his face. He cradled the back of Barry’s neck, keeping the younger man pressed tightly against his chest as Joe helped ease him to the ground. 

Under the weight Len unceremoniously bent to his knees before falling back into a seated position on the floor, Joe helping protect Barry from further injury by easing him down between Len’s sprawled legs. Barry’s shoulders rested back against his chest, Len reaching up with his right hand to place it against Barry’s brow, gently pulling the too warm head back to rest against his shoulder. 

“God, he’s burning up,” Len whispered, brushing the sweat-soaked and tangled hair back, wrapping his left arm more securely around Barry’s chest, holding him as close as he could. Joe made slow work of the ropes around Barry’s wrists that pooled limply in his lap, trying to cut the rope as delicately as he could as not to cause any more sudden pain to his son. 

As Len averted his gaze from Joe’s careful sawing of the ropes and back to Barry’s face, he was surprised and concerned to see wide green eyes staring back at him, clouded in pain.

“Hey,” Len sighed, ready to say more but when Joe said his name, Len looked up. Joe motioned with his head to Barry’s wrists, ready to try to free them from the bindings. Len nodded. 

“Barr, this is going to hurt a bit,” Joe said, hands hovering over Barry’s wrists, thumbs gently stroking the inside of his bruised forearms. Barry nodded slowly, eyes closing, turning his head until his cheek rested against the crook of Len’s neck. 

With a few pulls the ropes were free and Len could see Barry’s flushed face contort in pain, biting down on the cloth still between his teeth, moaning behind the gag as the ropes were pulled away from where they had been deeply embedded in his wrists, rough fibers still clinging to the broken flesh. Joe lay Barry’s arms to rest loosely across his stomach and sighed as they twitched in pain. 

Joe moved up on his knees from where he had been kneeling in front of them and reached to gently grab Barry’s face in his hands.

“I’m going to take the gag out now, okay, son?” Thumbs traced the split left cheekbone gently, waiting for the nod before Joe lifted Barry’s head from where it lay against Len’s shoulder and steady fingers untied the knot of the cloth. Len marveled at how the man’s hands didn't shake. Len knew how deeply Joe felt for Barry. To be able to keep his composure, Len wasn’t sure how he could, but with gentle yet strong hands Joe eased the fabric from his teeth, not hesitating to gently wipe some of the blood away from the cracked corners of Barry’s lips. 

“There we go,” Joe tried to smile and Len knew it was done only as an attempt for Barry because he could finally see the man’s resolve start to crumble, could see the tears filling the older man’s eyes as he cupped Barry’s face.

“Joe,” he rasped before coughing, tears spilling over his stained cheeks. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean-“

“Shhh,” Joe interrupted, leaning forward to press his lips against Barry’s forehead. “I’m the one who's sorry. I’m so proud of you, son.”

Len didn’t expect the broken sob that came from Barry as a response to Joe’s words. As he watched the exchange, any anger, mixed feelings, or grudge against Joe West melted away. He no longer saw the cop who’d arrested him in the past or someone who lived on the other side of the tracks from Len’s lifestyle. All he saw was a father concerned for his son, the father of the man he loved; all he saw between them was the special bond between a father and son that weren’t tied together by blood but just the love, respect, and gratitude that flowed in their veins instead. 

“The ambulance and squad will be here any minute,” Joe said and it took Len a moment to realize he was speaking to him, eyes meeting the dark ones of the older man. “Ralph and I will take Mardon and guide the EMT’s down here. Keep him with us.”

“Yes sir,” Len couldn’t help the quiet response, unsure of where it came from other than his own growing respect for West. He couldn’t even imagine being able to pull himself away from Barry right now and he admired the strength to do what needed to be done. He instinctually tightened his hold on the shaking form that turned into him.

He watched Joe lean in to press a kiss against Barry’s forehead again, taking a moment to palm his cheek once more, brushing his thumb once over the warm, marred skin, before standing up and turning toward Mardon. He heard Ralph and Joe talk over Mardon’s cursing but Len had already shifted focus back to the precious burden in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered, eyes misty beneath a furrowed brow as he raised his arm just enough to rest over the one wrapped around his chest, fingers fisting the material of Len’s sleeve weakly. 

“What did I tell you about apologizing for nothing,” Len forced himself to smile. ”None of this is your fault, Barry.”

“I wasn’t,” Barry turned his head slowly, half-opened eyes trying to focus on the face above him, “I wasn’t quick enough to stop him from taking me. I couldn’t escape.”

Len wanted to stop the train of guilt before it even started. How someone could be kidnapped and tortured as punishment towards someone else and somehow take the blame, Len couldn’t understand it. But that was Barry. And before he could even begin to try to placate the other man, Barry spoke softly again.

“Lisa and Iris?” he breathed softly, chest heaving, eyes pleading up at Len.  
  
“Lisa is still in Gotham last I checked and Iris is at S.T.A.R. Labs waiting for you,” Len replied, not sure what Barry was asking. 

“He said...that if I couldn’t give him what he needed,” Barry continued weakly, biting his bottom lip in response to pain that flared in his body, “that he would hurt them instead.”

“No one else got hurt, love,” Len answered, reaching his hand up again to brush Barry’s hair back over and over, leaning over him to kiss his temple. 

“Love,” Barry sighed softly, eyelids fluttering a few times.

“No, Barry, stay with me,” Len shook the man in his arms, relief coming briefly as Barry’s eyes shot open but fleeing instantly as they filled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered again, eyes clenching tightly.

“It’s okay,” Len slid his fingers through the damp hair, tilting Barry’s head back to look at him, trying to keep his own tears at bay. He could hear the sounds of people talking over each other and footsteps above them as they headed their way. It reminded him of the day at the bank, Barry dying in his arms, voices approaching, and for only the second time in his life, Len was happy the cops had arrived. “You’re going to be okay, I just need you to say with me, Scarlet.”

“Len,” Barry’s voice was hoarse and quiet, eyes blinking rapidly but falling closed with a pained sigh. 

“Barry?” Len asked, shaking him gently but getting no response. “Baby, please open your eyes.”

“Sir?” A voice forced him to look up from where he had been focused on his unconscious boyfriend, surprising him because he hadn’t even heard anybody enter the room. But there were two paramedics standing around where he sat with Barry in his lap, bags and supplies in hand. One tall, pale skin and blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun on his head, lean and maybe Barry’s age, the second a slightly older black man with buzzed dark hair, shorter but a strong build, his uniform indicating he was the field supervisor, both looking at him expectantly.

The two paramedics crouched down in front of Len as they gently eased Barry from Len’s hold, Barry’s head lolling back against the older paramedic’s supporting arm. Barry’s breathing was harsher than it should have been, his fever higher than safe and Len fought the urge to take him back into his arms. But he moved to his knees and tried to keep enough distance for the professionals to work but also nearby in case Barry needed him as they lay him flat on the ground.

“Barry,” the tall EMT said rather loudly, using his penlight to check Barry’s pupils. “Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?” He turned to his partner. “Pupils are dilated and he’s unresponsive.”

“Pulse is 110; respiration 28. Pale, clammy skin,” The older EMT supplied, examining Barry. “Blunt force trauma, extensive bruising, lacerations on his abdomen, chest, and arms, puncture wounds to the hands, left clavicle and right pectoral.”

Len stood by silently, listening to the clinical tone of the men as they communicated to each other the condition of their patient, unable to look anywhere but Barry’s face as it was covered with an oxygen mask by the third EMT, a petite red-headed female that Len wondered how he missed her joining them. She focused solely on prepping Barry as the other two examined him. The sudden shift in tone had Len snapping from Barry’s face to the EMTs. 

“Pressure is low. Look at this,” the older one said as he indicated the area on Barry’s lower torso with a blue glove covered hand. “Abdomen swelling, possible internal injury, and hemorrhage. We need to push fluids and get him transported.”

Almost on cue, two additional EMTs arrived with a stretcher, followed by Joe who came to stand beside where Len kneeled.

“Let me get his IV started and we’ll be ready for transport,” the red-headed EMT spoke to the new arrivals. “Secure his left arm, it appears separated from the shoulder.”

“Got it,” the brunette EMT holding the front of the stretcher nodded.

“How bad?” Len finally found his voice, a lump in his throat that had been threatening to suffocate him for the last few minutes. 

“Critical,” the blonde male EMT who had been the first to address him when he declared Barry unresponsive, closing the equipment box as he stood. “Internal injuries with the probability of internal bleeding. Liver, maybe spleen. They’ll know more once they get him to the hospital.” 

“Not the hospital,” Joe dictated, “He needs to be taken to S.T.A.R. Labs.”

“Sir, with all due respect...” the redhead started.

“He was struck by lightning seven years ago and has very specific medical needs. His doctor is at S.T.A.R. Labs,” Joe interrupted.

“Sir, I know you’re the captain of the CCPD but-“ the blonde EMT tried to interject. 

“He’s also this man’s father,” Len cut off the man. He understood they were just trying to do their jobs but they needed to get Barry to Caitlin, end of story.

“Then S.T.A.R. Labs it is,” the older EMT nodded at Joe. And without another word the paramedics worked quickly and efficiently secured Barry to the stretcher. Joe and Len followed behind as they carried him up and out of the cellar where flashing lights of ambulances and squad cars swarmed the field. 

Len could see Ralph talking with the detective that had detained Len when he’d been accused of murder, Mardon in the back seat on the car. Ralph nodded his way and knew Len that he had everything control with Mardon, that Len could focus on Barry.

They made it to the ambulance and the paramedics loaded Barry into the back of the vehicle, the blonde man and redhead behind the two who would tend to the injured man as they rode to S.T.A.R. Labs. 

Without asking permission, Len began to climb into the vehicle after him but was stopped by a hand on his arm by the fifth paramedic who had joined them in the cellar, a muscular Latino man with kind eyes. 

“Sir, family only. And you’re injured yourself, you should let us take a look at you,” he said.

“He is family. He’s his partner,” Joe came up beside them, addressing the paramedic before turning to Len. “Go with him. I’ll meet you there once I make sure Mardon is secure at the precinct. Ralph’s gonna take my car and join the police escort to S.T.A.R. Labs. Call me if anything happens before I get there.”

Len nodded his thanks to Joe, unsure what to say, and wasted no more time as he jumped into the vehicle. He sat on the bench next to the stretcher, the Latin paramedic climbing in behind him and closing the doors. 

And just like that, they were off, the sounds of sirens and lights surrounding them as they pulled away from the farm but Len paid little mind. His focus was solely on Barry’s slack face. 

The oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, barely hiding the bruising and blood beneath. His hair was plastered to his skin so deathly pale in contrast to the vivid red staining it. Len couldn’t help but take Barry’s right hand in his, a hand now wrapped heavily in gauze. The younger man was so cold, so still, it was terrifying. He’d never met anybody who was more in motion than Barry Allen, whether he was fidgeting, buzzing with untapped super speed or racing all over the place. He was rarely ever still. 

Len took a deep breath and let it escape shakily from his mouth, trying to quell the rising fear and emotions threatening to consume him. Barry had to be okay. They’d taken so much to get here, Len wasn’t ready to let it go, to let him go. Barry was his sun and Len wasn’t willing to go back to the dark world he’d come from. He finally had something in his life that belonged to him honestly, that was given to him without expectation, something that he loved wholly. He wouldn’t except anything other than Barry making it out with his life so they could live it together like they promised each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Black Out the Sun" by Darren Hayes


	16. Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if I told you that I had regrets, I would trade in all my happiness for one last kiss  
> For a moment or two lying by your side  
> What if I chose a road nobody walked, if I uttered promises with empty talk  
> If I knew back then the things that I know now  
> I would tell you that I love you then we’d all get low  
> There are peaks and there are valleys, you’ve got to have known  
> A second chance, it rarely comes around
> 
> You can’t smell the roses when you’re gone  
> So live every moment like it’s the last night on earth"

The ride to S.T.A.R. Labs had been a blur, words and procedures Len couldn’t pay attention to, unable to focus on anything but the slight fogging of the oxygen mask that told him Barry was still breathing and to the sound of the heart monitor, however erratic it was, that told him that heart he loved so deeply was still beating. 

Before they were even halfway to their destination Barry had been on oxygen, given medication to increase the function of his heart and to improve his blood pressure, and received a unit of blood. As they entered the towering building, Ralph guided the paramedics through the corridors of S.T.A.R. Labs while Len followed closely behind the gurney. When they finally arrived at the medbay, Caitlin was waiting, prepped and fully set up, Iris and Cisco in scrubs ready to assist the doctor. Len was having a hard time leaving Barry’s side as the paramedics transferred him from their stretcher to the gurney set up in the center of the room. They asked Caitlin if she needed assistance which she politely declined. When Barry started coughing violently and fresh blood escaped from his lips as Caitlin affixed their own supply to his mask, Len surged forward, hovering over the bed before Caitlin tried to push him away, ordering him out of the operation room.

“This needs to be a sterile environment and you’re the last thing I need to worry about now. I’m sorry, out of my medbay!” Caitlin ordered with finality, pointing to the observation room and ending the shouting match between them as she went back to triaging her patient. With a glance down at the injured man on the gurney, Len knew she was right. He couldn’t help Barry right now, he had to leave it to the people that could. It didn’t stop him from storming out of the room with a slam of the door though.

An hour later found Cecile joining him and Ralph, watching, waiting. Two hours after that, Iris left the medbay, scrubs stained, face drawn with weary, eyes on the brink of tears.

“He’s stable for now. Caitlin just needs Cisco now so I,” Iris’ voice faltered, her brow furrowed as she glanced down at the blood on her gloves and clothes, “I have to shower. You’ll get me if anything happens?”

Cecile nodded with a sympathetic smile as Iris left and Len found himself both jealous that she had been allowed in there to help but also grateful that he hadn’t. He couldn’t imagine having to perform under these circumstances, something she wasn’t prepared or trained in other than the minimal emergency training from Caitlin for situations like this that was too much for one person. And everything about this situation was too much. Caitlin being essentially a one-man surgical team, Cisco and Iris stepping into roles as nurses, the pain and torment Barry went through, his family left behind to watch and wait.

Joe had finally joined them shortly after Iris fled to take a shower, having gotten here as soon as he was sure Mardon was secure at CCPD. 

“That was stupid what you did, going alone,” Joe scolded as he walked up to stand beside him, no heat but plenty of frustration. “Selfless, but stupid.”

“Nothin’ selfless about it detective,” Len shook his head before turning away from the observation window. “Loving him is the most selfish thing I’ve ever done.”

He left then, the observation room too crowed of people huddled together watching Barry fight for his life, the observation room to close to watching Caitlin and Cisco work but also not close enough to Barry. He tried escaping to the Cortex but it felt small all of a sudden, his legs too long and pacing strides too much for the crowded space, so he relocated to the hall outside. The deserted corridor provided the space he needed, away from the others who were also experiencing the same emotional turmoil he was, away from the observation room where he just couldn’t bear to watch anymore. 

Iris returned after thirty minutes or so, freshly showered. Gone were the scrubs as she strode the length of the hall towards him, clad in leggings and an oversized sweater, hair drying in its natural curls. She came over to him, embraced him fully. At first, Len couldn’t find the strength to lift his arms and return the hug nor the instinct to pull away. But eventually, he wrapped his arms loosely around her slim waist and he felt her squeeze him a little tighter, the feeling of a stuttering breath against his neck. He was more surprised how comforted he felt by her presence, that true feeling of not being alone, than he was by the embrace itself.

Len couldn’t help but lose himself in a moment of awe of her quiet strength, admiration of her natural beauty, and acknowledging the grace she had to embrace his relationship with Barry. She was the only person in the world who probably fully appreciated just the wonder that was Barry Allen, who knew what it was like to love and be loved by him. They had a bond, Len and Iris, a shared connection forged only by being privy to the unique and rare beauty of being in Barry’s orbit. She had known his body, his heart, his fears, his soul just as Len did now, but she had known him first. Having her blessing and encouragement was probably not only a relief to Barry, but Len found it to be a relief and comfort to himself. She was an important part of Barry’s story, and Len was appreciative to now have her be a part of his own. 

When she eventually pulled away she gave him a sad, knowing smile with a sympathetic kiss on his cheek before going to seek comfort with her father, leaving Len to continue his pacing, still stressed but feeling less lost. 

Between the fourth and fifth hour of watching and waiting, Len’s emotions were ricocheting between grief and anger, violently bouncing back and forth with no chance of maintaining the self-control he was customary to. Len didn’t stray far still, despite the desperate need for air, for space. But he needed to be in earshot, the hallway allowing a stride to his pacing that matched his thinking process, occasionally peering through the small square of glass at the door that led into the medbay. Before they hit the five-hour mark, Caitlin emerged, Cisco insisting on being the one to stay behind as he cleaned Barry’s face of blood and dirt, to make his friend look like himself again, to clean away the remnants of the experience so he could see the hope through the horror. Len and Ralph joined them in the observation room immediately as Caitlin took a deep breath, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. There was a lot of information to give, some of it not good, and all of it difficult because everyone gathered loved Barry in their own way. Including her. 

“He’s stable,” she announced and the room filled with releases of held breaths sighs of gratitude. “He suffered a gunshot wound to the right knee from behind. We removed the bullet fragments but it severely fractured the bones in the joint. We operated and were able to wire it together. I have him in a rigid hinged knee brace that he’ll need to be in for a little while but with physical therapy and his powers, he should regain full use in time. He would have bled out if the blood flow hadn’t been staunched but the injury was infected. Thankfully he hasn’t gone septic. We’re treating it with antibiotics.”

Len could feel his hand going numb with the tightness of his clenched fist. He kept his composure, looking slightly over Caitlin’s head as she spoke as if waiting for the man they were discussing to just get up and walk through the door, assuring them all he was fine. But he didn’t, wouldn’t. And so Caitlin continued. 

“He has a fracture in his left wrist, most likely from struggling with the restraints, as well as a severe fracture to his left clavicle. Xrays confirm it was a shoulder separation, not a dislocation. My guess is it started off as a ligament being torn, the AC joint a partial separation from blunt force but constant strain put on the injury from being pulled at while he was bound, it created a complete separation. I was able to repair it with arthroscopic surgery which is less invasive and should heal in no time when his powers kick in. Normally I would have left that kind of injury up to his healing abilities because surgery isn’t always necessary with this degree of separation but his system is severely compromised and I didn’t want to risk future complications by leaving it untreated. Combined with the hairline fracture to his wrist and a deep gash on his bicep I opted for an immobilizer sling for the considerable damage to his left arm.”

Len couldn’t help but imagine what Mardon had done to Barry to separate his shoulder, an injury that was then exacerbated by being pulled and strained and tied and overextended for days with Barry unable to get free. And it was clear he had tried, fracturing his left wrist trying to do so. Caitlin described the enflamed ligature marks on both wrists, deep, rubbed raw nearly down to the bone. His jeans managed to protect his ankles from a similar reaction to the bindings but both were swollen. He tried to focus on her words as she talked about the bruising on his torso, the four fractured ribs, bilateral pulmonary contusions, the hairline skull fracture, and concussion but got little relief when she tried to reassure them there was no sign of hematoma or hemorrhaging. The stab wounds to both palms, the deep gashes in the forms of x’s on his chest, and the cuts of various lengths and depths, some that needed stitches, some that didn’t, Len had seen first hand but still listened intently as Caitlin reported them. As she described the injuries, in his mind’s eye he could see them happening all over again, the pain in Barry’s eyes, the dull shine of the blade as it cut through his beautiful skin, the scarlet of the blood. 

“He was coughing up blood,” Len added suddenly, finally meeting her eyes as he interrupted with the immediate thought. She nodded in response, taking a deep breath.

“The blood was a combination of a deep cut in his lip and from a cut on the inside of his cheek. Believe it or not, even with the abuse he took, there was no harm to his chest to cause hemorrhaging internally. The coughing itself is most likely from bruising on his lungs. We have to keep a close eye on his lungs, we don’t want it to develop into pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia?” Joe asked, his tone conveying the exhaustion and incredulity they were all feeling at the list of injuries, at the state of the one they all loved, knowing what he endured and went through to get to where he was now. 

“He has four fractured ribs and bruising on both lungs. It reduces the amplitude of breathing and just sets the body up for infections, not even taking into consideration the conditions he was kept in or what was done to him to hinder his breathing,” Caitlin’s resolve started to finally break, her eyes welling as her list went from clinical to speculative, from facts to imagination, from patient to friend. “You add blood loss, malnutrition, and stress to that, it’ll be a miracle he doesn’t develop pneumonia. He was having trouble breathing when he came in and he..he stopped breathing twice.”

Ralph moved forward and embraced Caitlin, holding her tight as she tried to regain her composure, finding strength from the comfort rather than the permission to break down.

“Thank you, Caitlin,” Iris said, gripping her father’s hand tight in her own, a hand she had held from the moment Caitlin walked through the door. 

“I’m going to keep him intubated while he’s under and until he’s strong enough to breathe on his own. He’s not out of the woods yet,” the doctor confessed as she pulled away from Ralph’s embrace, holding out a supporting hand that gripped his arm affectionately.

“Joe, we need to photograph the injuries before he starts healing,” Cecile stated gently, her hand rubbing up and down the base of Joe’s spine, reassuring, grounding. “I need to document them for the case against Mardon.”

“I have to change his bandages so now might be the time,” Caitlin said as sensitively as she could. 

“I’ll help, Cecile, ” Ralph offered. He’d had some experience from his time at CCPD. There was something dehumanizing about reducing a living, breathing human to evidence, even harder when it was someone you cared about but he couldn’t imagine doing it to your child. The relief on Joe’s face was instantaneously gratifying, Ralph knowing that he’d made the right call. 

“Wait, I need to speak with Caitlin and Joe alone,” Len interrupted, voice firm. He could see Iris ready to protest but as she caught his eye, she stopped herself. 

“Ralph, I think Camilla has a spare camera in Cisco’s lab you can use rather than your phone,” Iris indicated with her head to follow him. She wanted to know what Len knew, but something in his face told her that whatever it was was a painful and private matter. She grabbed Ralph’s wrist instead of waiting for him to follow, shushing him as he tried to protest. 

Once they left, Len glanced at Cecile, waiting.

“I’m Barry’s lawyer. I need to know everything,” she matched his stare and Len suddenly remembered why she had been known as D.A. Ce-Seal-Your-Fate Horton. His eyebrow raised in acquiescence and he crossed his arms over his chest, gathering himself a moment as he was about to share the implication of the video during Barry’s abduction he was the only one privy to. 

“You need to do a sexual assault kit,” Len said, eyes locked with Cecile’s until the women closed them, grief and anger taking hold as she realized the implications. 

“You think Mardon...” Caitlin started, shocked. 

“I know. I just don’t know how far it got,” he moved his eyes to Joe then, feeling the seething anger radiate off the older man standing across from him.

“And just how do you know that?” He accused. 

“Mardon sent me a video-“

Any further explanation was cut off as Joe surged at him, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and pushing him back against the glass wall. 

“And you’re just telling me this now? That’s my kid!” Joe raged. 

“Which is exactly why I didn’t show you,” Len tried to say as evenly as he could, not pulling away from the grip Joe had on him.

“You had no right to keep anything from me,” Joe shouted, gripping the lapels tightly, inches from Len’s face and Len could see the tears in his eyes. He wasn’t angry at him, not really. Len was here and Mardon wasn’t. 

“If I thought it was necessary or helpful in finding him I would have shown you.”

“That is not your decision to make! He’s my son!” 

“And it would have crushed him knowing you’d seen it!” Len finally shouted back but still not pushing Joe away. “The video was Mardon touching him, taunting him, but it cut out before revealing if he’d done anything else. But I know it would have hurt Barry so deeply for you to have to watch that. I couldn’t-.”

Joe dropped his grip as Len’s voice faltered.

“I couldn’t protect him from Mardon. I had to,” Len’s voice hitched as Joe backed away. “I had to do something for him.”

Joe looked at him for a long moment, studying, if Len had to describe it. But he just nodded at him before turning to Cecile. She reached out a hand for Joe to grip tightly. Len watched the wordless exchange before Joe pulled away to collapse into a nearby chair, hands bracing the back of his head as he let it hang between his knees. Cecile wiped a stray tear from her eye and then came over to him.

“I understand why you did what you did,” her voice soft, gentle, as compassionate as the hand that reached out to clasp his forearm. “I can feel why you did it. But I need to see it, as his lawyer.”

“When he wakes up, I’ll ask him,” Len whispered back, willing to her understand his reasoning. When she smiled sadly at him and gave him a single nod he felt relieved. 

“When can we be with him?” Joe asked before Cecile and Caitlin cleared the doorway to the medbay.

“Soon, I promise. But you both need to shower and change first. I can’t have you in there with him like that. ” Caitlin promised, watching as both Len and Joe looked down at themselves, the dried blood, the dirt, as if both of them forgot where they’d been a just a few hours ago. 

She knew it was killing Joe to not be by Barry’s side. He’d been there for him for nine months, for his broken back, as he tried to learn to walk again, after his extended stint in Flashtime, and every painful night as bones stitched together or wounds healed, usually with Iris by his side. And when they couldn’t, Caitlin and Cisco would. But as she turned to follow Cecile into the medbay, she caught a glimpse of Leonard Snart, saw the anxiousness and worry on his usually stoic face and Caitlin knew that he’d be another one to add to the list of people she’d have to convince to go home and get some rest, remind to eat or shower, to force to take care of themselves instead of spending all hours by Barry’s bedside. And he’d be another one to add to the list that ignored the advice. 

___________________________________________________________________

Len knew every curve and every line of Barry Allen’s body. Like the seconds of a perfectly timed heist, he knew his rhythm. He’d spent the better part of the last six months of what Barry would some times joke as a hands-on study session. Len couldn’t help but be fascinated by his lover; the way he communicated with his words, eyes, body, and telegraphed his emotions. He’d tried to become adept at recognizing the differences in his heartbeat when he held him close, the hitches in his breathing, notice the color shift in his vibrant hazel eyes to gage what he was feeling, attempting to understand the intricacies and idiosyncrasies of Barry Allen. He was simultaneously a simple man and an enigma that Len tried so desperately to comprehend to his fullest. Len wanted to be able to give everything to his lover, memorizing the pleasure points, cataloging Barry’s responses to the different ways Len held or kissed him, the reactions to his words. He hadn’t been able to anticipate what Barry coming into his life would mean to him, so he wanted to never take a moment for granted for all he’d given to him.

But this, Len had no idea what he could possibly give to him now. It was like every curve and line was broken, his rhythm disrupted. His eyes closed, body still, silent, heartbeat irregular and identified by the beep of the monitor, his breathing in a carefully timed rise and fall of his chest directed by a machine and accompanied by an unnatural hiss. He looked so small, so young, so broken, and Len felt lost. 

Len hadn’t left the chair to right of Barry’s bedside for the better part of two days now. The bruising on Barry’s face had deepened somewhat but having been cleaned up, the blood and dirt wiped away, he looked a considerable amount better than he had before. Lying so still and pale, the wires from his chest, the tube sticking out of his mouth, bandaging on so much of his exposed skin, arm in a sling, made him look defenseless. 

“He’s holding his own. His vitals are stable but the next twenty-four hours are critical,” Caitlin had reassured them when they had finally been allowed into the medbay two days ago.

They had all entered the lab with soft steps, as if afraid to wake the unconscious man. Joe and Len both made long strides towards the bed, Len immediately moving to his side on the right while Joe stood by the head of the left side of the bed. 

Len went to hold Barry’s right hand but the palm and wrists were wrapped heavily in gauze, protecting the stab wound through the palm and lacerations around his wrists from the rope. A glance up across the bed and Len witnessed Joe with the same hesitation, Barry’s left hand wrapped in gauze from palm to wrist, more wrapped around his bicep, and the arm tightly secured to his body in the sling, stabilizing his injured arm and shoulder. 

Len glanced down at Barry again, settling on resting his hand gently on Barry’s right forearm, squeezing it ever so slightly. Unsure if it was meant to let Barry know he was here with him or meant to ground himself instead, reassuring himself that Barry was with him. 

“When will he wake up?” Joe asked, voicing the question that had just entered Len’s mind. Len looked up at him again as Joe reached a gentle hand to push back the hair flopped over Barry’s brow, mindful of the small bandage over the gash on the right temple, the white gauze standing out in stark contrast against the bruising around it. It wasn’t nearly as vibrant as the butterfly bandages on his split left cheekbone, the skin beneath and around it dark blue and purple against the slight pink flush of his fevered cheeks. 

“He’s still under the effects of the anesthesia and I want to keep him sedated so we can reduce the strain on his organs. He has another twelve hours to go and then I’m going to stop the drip and see how he responds. But even after the sedation wears off it may take several hours to a day for him to wake,” Caitlin reported as she placed the stethoscope in her ears, They watched as she pulled down the blanket, exposing his bare torso to listen to his heart and lungs.

The sight of Barry’s midsection took Len off guard, the discoloration and bruising were apparent on the few spots of skin that weren’t covered in bandaging. His damaged ribs were wrapped, some of the cuts stitched and covered, some exposed but with butterfly bandages. Len must have made a sound or a sigh because Caitlin looked up quickly at him, her expression an empathetic understanding of his distress and concerns because she felt it too. 

“They’ll heal,” she promised, pulling the blanket back up over his chest.

“How long will it take for him to start healing?” Iris asked from the foot of his bed, tears in her eyes as she lay a soft hand on Barry’s left blanketed calf. The blanket tented over where his right leg was propped up on pillows supporting the injured limb. Len knew it was heavily bandaged and braced even though they couldn’t see it and even though he’d seen the injury, he was grateful it was currently obscured.

“Barry went five days without food and water. The human body can survive up to twenty-one days without food and water but for someone with Barry’s metabolism he requires at least three times the normal person just to sustain himself,” Cisco answered, voice strained, arms crossed in a self hug. He hadn’t spoken much since they brought Barry home, so unlike the scientist who was always quick to cut the tension with a joke or remark. But this whole thing shook him to the core, much like it did them all. He wasn’t a doctor like Caitlin but he’d become an expert at speedster needs early on in their journey as Team Flash, studied quite a bit about metabolism and the theoretical needs of a speedster when he created the high-calorie protein bars for Barry. “Even with his powers dampened, his DNA is still transformed. Even if he’s not using his powers, he needs to still be sustained. The five days he went without food and water may as well have been two weeks.”

“Cisco’s right. Even without the extra energy tax using his powers causes on his body, his metabolic rate and thus consumption would drop way down,” Caitlin took over as she notated Barry’s vitals on her tablet. “Malnutrition inhibits your body’s ability to fight infections which is why we’re going to have to monitor his breathing closely. It also delays wound healing so it’s going to be days before we can even hope for his healing powers to kick in. The good news about his system being compromised, we’ll be able to keep him on painkillers and antibiotics for longer than usual.”

The collective sigh from the room spoke volumes to Len. These people had become so accustomed to watching Barry suffer through the pain of his injuries, even though they were temporary by his accelerated healing. Any semblance of relief for Barry brought a sense of relief to all of them. Len could actually feel the pang in his heart at the thought that anyone else was feeling what he was at seeing Barry like this. In his head, he knew these people had loved him longer than he himself had but he also found the thought that anyone could love him as much as he did unfathomable. But here he was, surrounded by people who loved Barry Allen, and Len found himself comforted in the knowledge that not only would Barry never be alone as he healed, but that neither would Len.

He was never one to feel comfortable with a community. Until the Legends, his whole life had been about survival mode, Lisa and Mick in his orbit of people he needed to keep safe but the three of them were never a family in the traditional sense. Team Flash wouldn’t be defined as a traditional family either, but everything that you would associate with one, love, safety, trust, comfort, friendship, it was all radiating from them for each other that you could feel it surrounding them, emanating like an aura. But he began to feel it working with Sara and Ray and the team and in falling into Barry’s orbit, he now felt himself pulled into this community. It was a strange sensation, transforming from feeling like he was the outsider to feeling accepted, their shared love and grief and pain tying them to each other as they waited for Barry to rejoin them.

As the hours went on since they were first allowed in, Len noticed a hesitance to some of Team Flash’s actions. Iris explained it to him that usually when Barry was in this kind of condition, it was because he was the Flash, not the victim of a violent crime. They usually didn’t have to photograph or catalog his injuries for a report. They didn’t usually need to bag up his clothing immediately for the CCPD Crime Scene Unit. 

Len also suspected they’d never had to collect samples for sexual assault kit. When he had mentioned it, he saw the instantaneous reaction on Caitlin, Joe, and Cecile’s face and body the same time he felt the band around his own chest tighten. They agreed not to tell Cisco, Ralph or Iris, that it was Barry’s choice whether to share or not, regardless of the results. Len never thought he’d be grateful for the former District Attorney, but after Ralph had taken the photos of the injuries, she had asked him to leave and walked Caitlin through the procedure, handled it all with the professionalism of the seasoned lawyer and the tenderness of a mother. That tempered glass strength shattered though when after the exam Caitlin revealed to Len, Joe, and Cecile that there were no donor samples from the swabs they’d taken, no signs of physical trauma like tears or fissures in his throat or rectum, no indication of forced penetration. They wouldn’t know for sure till they spoke to Barry but they all cried as they released their held breaths when Caitlin delivered the results. Cecile had hugged Joe tightly, tears down her face as suddenly the prosecutor melted away, leaving a woman giving in to her emotions. Cecile was nowhere close to being Barry’s mother, never claimed to be once or gave the impression that she felt that way, but the gentle touches and soft looks she gave while Caitlin worked expressed that a maternal love for the young man, the man her partner viewed as his son, was very much there. 

While Len sat by Barry’s bedside, rarely leaving unless he had to, he watched each member of Barry’s team, his family, move around him, never once asking Len to get up so they could take his place. He felt like he belonged by Barry’s bedside, but to feel like they felt he belonged, it gave Len a bit of peace he’d never felt before. And once again Len found himself grateful for the people that seemed to love Barry Allen as much as he did. 

While Cecile was a quiet comforting prescience, Ralph and Cisco seemed to attempt the opposite. When Ralph would visit he would move around the room as he talked, touching things he probably shouldn’t, reminding ‘Rookie’ of everything he was missing while he slept. Cisco would sit on a wheelie chair, spinning as he spoke of all the updates he was making to Barry’s suit, S.T.A.R. Labs satellite, and an idea he had for being able to track to Team Flash. The scientist didn’t spend a lot of time in the medbay, Len could see how uncomfortable it was for him to see Barry like this, so Len assumed he was spending his time in his lab trying to come up with more ways to keep his friends safe, doing something that made him feel useful in a situation that made them all feel helpless.

Iris would sit for hours, talking to Len about Barry as if he was awake and could participate. He assumed it was from years of practice of sitting by his bedside that it seemed to come so naturally to her to balance her casual tone with soft touches to Barry’s shoulder, a perfectly placed kiss on the uninjured cheek when she’d enter or before she’d leave, the ease in which she shared stories of her friend with fond looks at the prone body and not succumbing to her worry and grief. Len found her company the most welcoming, enjoying his time with her. It surprised him by how at ease he was with his lover’s ex. She was kind and strong, supportive of Barry and Len’s relationship so genuinely. And she seemed to take joy in sharing stories of Barry with him like she wanted Len in on the experience of her life growing up with Barry. 

“I wish I had a photo or something so you could see him, four foot nothing Barry, face streaked in grease and hair singed, a horrified expression on his face when his robot started sparking,” Iris laughed, clapping her hands at the memory she had just shared of Barry’s science fair project in the fourth grade that had gone terribly wrong. They were into their third hour of bedside vigil together, well past three a.m. and neither could tear themselves away to sleep. So Len sat on Barry’s right side, as usual, wrapped hand tenderly held between both of Len’s atop the mattress. Iris sat on Barry’s left further down by Barry’s hip as to not accidentally jar his injured left arm. 

“So he never could just take the easy way, huh?” Len laughed back, smiling up at Iris from across the bed before shifting his gaze to smile down at Barry, wishing he would wake up and join in on the story. But Barry was still unconscious, stable enough to no longer be on the ventilator but after nearly two days they were still waiting for him to wake up. 

“He was trying to impress my dad,” Iris’ smile faltered slightly, shifting with her emotions as the joyful memory turned a little more somber. “They had a rough start when he first came to live with us, I mean Barry had just gone through a huge trauma, couldn’t see his father and my dad had just taken on a huge responsibility. But eventually, it changed, Barry started talking again and eating again and he and my dad started to spend more time together. But maybe like six months into his time with us, we were watching this family-friendly sports movie from the ’90s together-“

Len glanced up at her quizzically, and she had to chuckle.

“It was definitely my pick. Barry always chose stuff like Star Wars or Jurassic Park or Back to the Future,” she rolled her eyes before glimpsing down at Barry, her hand unable to stop itself from reaching out to lay gently on Barry’s left leg. “It was this story about angels and baseball but the thing I remember the most was the kid in the movie was a foster kid, left behind by a father who couldn’t take care of him. The kid was helping the coach of a baseball team win the pennant. By the end of the movie, the coach cared so much about the kid and adopts him. I remember my dad being in tears. But afterward, Barry was quiet again for days. He’d spend all day in the garage working on his science project, would go out of his way to do extra chores before Dad came home from work. Turns out after the science experiment went horribly wrong, Barry confessed to wanting to prove to my dad that he was worth the trouble, that he would be worth taking him in like that kid who helped the coach.”

Len could just picture the wheels turning in young Barry’s head; he’d seen the same thing in the adult. So dedicated to the people he loved, so eager to be the best version of himself for everyone else, never realizing how enough, how so enough he was just by being him. 

“My dad told him he took him in, sat by his bed at night, loved him, because of exactly who he was, not what Barry thought he had to be. There was nothing to prove,” Iris smiled with tears in her eyes as she gently stroked the blanket-covered leg. Len didn’t say anything as he watched her get lost in her own thoughts for a moment before she shook her head and swiped at the fallen tears. “Sorry, I don’t know if that’s a story he would have wanted me to share.”

“If it helps, he told me a version of that story about a week ago. He didn’t mention the movie but he told me about the science experiment that went awry. Right after your dad found out about us,” Len sighed, remembering the conversation. It was the day after the mess at the precinct, Joe refusing to take his calls had Barry’s anxiety through the roof, pacing the living room before Len finally got him to settle on the couch in his arms. He’d spent the night telling Len story after story about growing up and how much he appreciated what Joe had done for him, and that disappointing him was something he was terrified of, even if he thought Joe was wrong. “So he’s always been like that? Completely unaware of how much he means to people.”

“Oh yeah. One of the child psychologists that had helped Barry in the beginning explained it to us that it was part of his PTSD, of losing his mom so violently, of suddenly having his dad ripped away. For years Barry craved his father's love and presence, all his focus on the parent he had remaining and what he could do for Henry. The doctor said that when a child is forced into that, the child loses sight of their own emotions and needs, which unfortunately carries into adulthood. Even with all the love and support my dad and I gave him, you can’t overwrite trauma. All we could do was hope to help him heal.”

“From what I’ve heard, you guys did just that. He told me how grateful he is to have grown up in the West home. He gives Joe a lot of credit for the man he is today,” Len’s gaze didn’t leave Iris, getting ready to say something he wasn’t sure how it would be taken, uncertain if he should even voice it. But as his thumb delicately ran over Barry’s knuckles, back and forth, grateful that Barry’s hand was his to hold, Len felt like he had to express his gratitude as well. “He says he owes you both his life. And I feel like I do too.”

It was Iris’ turn to look at him with confusion. 

“You’re quite a remarkable woman Iris West-Allen. And I don’t think he could love me the way he does if he didn’t love you first. So thank you.”

Len’s tone was the softest she’d ever heard from the man. She wasn’t sure if it was the words, the sentiment, or the surge of joy she felt suddenly knowing that the boy she’d loved her whole life, who had been a man she had been fortunate enough to to be in love with for a time, a man who would forever hold a place in her heart, was loved so fully by the man in front of her. It brought tears to her eyes and she could feel her heart extend love towards Len, knowing that he loved her best friend, that he respected their relationship and history and herself as a person, she was thrilled he was part of their family now. She wanted him to know how much it meant to her. And although she addressed Len, she looked at Barry as she spoke.

“He was timid at the beginning of our relationship, and I don’t just mean the decade he kept it a secret. It was like he had to keep proving he was worth my love, my desire. And I think the fact that I was blind to it for so long is partially to blame for his hesitance, his doubt. Eventually, I was able to make him see that he was worthy of being loved for exactly who he was and then suddenly it was like he could love freely without worry, it just became him and me and god, no one loves like Barry Allen when he feels like he can use his whole heart,” She sighed, swiping at the tears that had fallen. Not out of regret because of what they no longer were, but out of joy for what they still were. She knew her place in his heart was forever too. Just like their daughter. But as she looked up at Len who watched her intently as she spoke, she felt here eyes again begin to well. Even though she and Barry were no longer together she never felt incomplete but Iris had been so fearful that Barry would. And then that day in the loft she saw how he talked about the new man in his life, saw the same look reflected in Len’s eyes now as he gripped so tightly to Barry’s hand, and she knew he’d never have to worry about her best friend not feeling whole again. “But I’ve seen him do it his entire life in every relationship. Doubt, overcompensate, earnestness to prove he’s worthy of a love that he is so beyond deserving of. Except with you. I’ve never seen him fall into a love so hard so fast and so free. You’re what he needs now in his life, Len. You make him happy, you make him feel loved, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted for my best friend. So, thank you.”

Len smiled, his own eyes damp although they did not spill over like hers, and he hoped Iris understood the gratitude in his expression. The small nod of her head at him told him she did and she quickly started telling Len more stories about their childhood, trying to fill their time with memories instead of worry. 

His interactions with Caitlin while he sat beside were a different experience. She was here as much as Len, albeit she was Barry’s doctor as well as his friend. After the first few hours after getting Barry back, when the team started to clear out of the medbay to finally get some sleep for the first time in nearly a week, she had tried to convince him to do the same.

“Leonard. you’re hurt, you need to rest yourself,” she had tried to appeal to him. 

“I’m not leaving this lab until he opens his eyes, Caitlin,” Len had said, not an ounce of fight or hostility in his tone. That was the first and only time she had made that pitch, seeing his determination, understanding the need. He backed out of her way when she needed to check her patient’s vitals, even helped when necessary to change his bandages, and she let him stay by his side over the course of the two days. She excused herself when Len would give in to his grief, felt no judgment passed when he would whisper and beg Barry to wake up. 

“His vitals are strong, he’s responding well since we stopped the sedatives. His respiration and heart rate are returning to normal standards, although not within his normal range but that’s to be expected. No signs of infection or complications from the surgery,” she had reassured as she had changed his IV bag.

“When will he wake up?” Len hated how pathetic he sounded but the sympathetic smile he got in return eased his anxiety, even if was only a little.

“When he’s ready,” she smiled sadly and then left him alone, a soft hand on his shoulder on her way out.

Len was grateful Caitlin had put Barry in a zip-up hoodie rather than scrubs. And even though it was unzipped and open, the bandages circling most of his torso and chest, it added a sense of normalcy despite the machines beeping and hissing. Len was alarmed by how quickly he adapted to this new normal, even after only two days. The five days Barry was missing, Len couldn’t adapt. He couldn’t sleep in their bed, couldn’t even stay in the apartment, despite the fact that it had been his well before it had been theirs. Everything felt empty with Barry being missing and in danger. But even now, with him unconscious and healing, at least he was here. It felt like Len could breathe for the first time in five days, like he could function properly. His own heartbeat with every beep the heart monitor made of Barry’s rhythm, every breath the ventilator forced into Barry’s lungs with a hiss, Len’s body forced an inhale. It was better than it had been, but he knew he couldn’t sustain like this for much longer. He had Barry home, but now he needed him back. 

Which brought him here now, fifty-three hours after Caitlin had announced that he was stable, fourteen hours since they took him off the sedatives and the ventilator. He was alone now with him, a rare moment that part of him ached for when someone else was in the room but now after days of being surrounded by people that shared his concern and pain, he felt lonely. Barry was in front of him, whole, safe, but Len felt so far away from him, like he hadn’t truly brought him home yet. 

“Scarlet, I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you,” he whispered, leaning in close, voice shaking, a hand resting atop Barry’s head, thumb stroking his temple, grazing his hairline. “I know you’re hurting, I know you’re tired, but it’s time to wake up now. Time for the sun to come out. I need to see those eyes, I need to hear your voice. I need you.”

But Barry didn’t wake up, didn’t move other than the slight rise and fall of his chest. What Len would give for the hand in his to flex, the eyes to flutter, even to hear him snore as he slept. 

“Barry, I’m sorry,” Len apologized for the umpteenth time. “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“Don’t make promises to him you can’t keep,” the voice said from the doorway. Len glanced up, pulling back slightly from where he had been leaned in so close as watched Joe West enter in, weary and worn, something that looked as familiar to Len as he felt. 

Len didn’t say anything as Joe came to stand on the left side of Barry’s bed, Len having taken up permanent residence on the right. Len watched as Joe placed a gentle hand atop Barry’s head, brushing the hair back. Len heard him whisper a ‘hey, Barr’ as he bent over to place a kiss atop his brow. 

“You’ll try, you’ll try to protect him, to keep him safe. I’ve been trying for most of his life but the universe keeps finding ways to hurt him,” Joe explained as he backed away from the bed, sitting in the chair that just an hour ago had housed the man’s daughter before she finally decided to go home and rest. It was midnight according to the clock on the wall but time meant nothing right now to Len, a man who spent most of his life timing things to the second. All time meant now was waiting for Barry to be okay. 

Joe must just have come from CCPD where he’d spent most of the last two days as Cecile helped them build an iron-clad case against Mardon. He’d been by a handful of times and although Len was surprised by how much he enjoyed Iris’ company, it didn’t quite surprise him as much as how quickly his dynamic had changed with Joe West. The man was here not as often as Len would have assumed, but Iris had informed him it was only because he knew Barry had someone with him, that Joe actually sought comfort in the fact that Len was by his side; it let him focus on the case against Mardon knowing Barry had constant support. At first, Len thought Iris was just being kind, but he soon came to see that she was indeed correct. 

Joe would come in, pat Len on the back before taking up the seat on the other side of the bed, sometimes bringing him a cup of coffee. No sense of hostility or animosity, and no feeling that it was forced kindness for the sake of his son. They’d come a long way in a week. Len wasn’t sure if it would last when Barry finally got better, but he’d take it for what it was while he could. 

“Just promise to try, to be there for him when he needs it. And even when he doesn’t,” Joe smiled sadly up at him and Len knew there was experience in those words that needed to be taken to heart. 

“And you’re okay...with me being there?” Len asked, but it wasn’t for permission. He didn’t need or want Joe’s blessing, or anyone’s for that matter. But he knew the less resistance from Barry’s family, the happier Barry would be. 

“Snart, I’ve seen this boy’s heartbreak more times than any person could ever hope to bounce back from. I’ve had a front-row seat to watching him suffer time and time again,” Joe leaned forward on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. He didn’t look at Len as he spoke, wasn’t even looking at Barry but more like past him, to another time, to another version of his son and Len felt like he was in that memory with him as he continued to speak. “I was there on duty the night his mother was murdered, right next to him when he came running back into the house after watching his father be loaded into the back of a squad car and he pulled back the tarp covering his mother’s body on their dining room floor. I was his ride home for years every time he had to leave his father behind in prison for a crime Barry knew Henry hadn’t committed. And I was there the night picking up the pieces after his father was murdered in front of him by Zoom in the same place his mom was murdered. I watched his heart break when he discovered Wells was Thawne, when Jay was Zolomon, when he found out Nora was working with Thawne in secret and then not days later, I watched his heart shatter when she disappeared from existence.”

Suddenly Joe came back from the memory, eyes meeting Len’s and he could see the heartbreak he spoke of that belonged to Barry reflected in Joe’s own eyes. It was a foreign concept to Len. Other than Lisa, Len had never loved anyone before himself, never felt anyone’s pain as if it was his own. His life was about self-preservation, never had anyone put him as a priority. It was easier that way; with nothing to hold onto, there was nothing to lose. Until Barry Allen kissed him Len had never wanted something to hold onto before. But seeing Joe’s eyes at the memory of Barry’s heartbreak, his emotions so closely tied to this young man he loved, reminded Len why he’d kept that part of himself off-limits. The thought of that alone would have sent Len running long ago, but instead, wanting nothing more than be there for Barry, to make sure he never felt heartbroken again, to take away Barry’s pain if it meant taking it on as his own, it made him grip the hand in his tighter. To love is to be vulnerable. He’d quoted that to Barry while they lay entangled in bed after their fight at the loft about trust and guilt. Len had told him he was ready to be vulnerable if it meant being with Barry. As Len sat here over the last few days, now entangled in the love of Barry’s family, he never could have imagined it meant being vulnerable with them too. 

“And then you come along, someone I don’t trust, and the thought of you breaking his heart was too much. Especially so soon after he and Iris ended their marriage. I couldn’t handle the idea of him being used by you, falling for you in a way that was clearly love by the way he defended you in my office that day, only to have you break his heart when you were done with him,” Joe confessed, desperation for Len to understand that even though he wasn’t saying it in those exact words, this was as close to an apology as Len was ever going to get. He wasn’t sorry for being protective of Barry, it wasn’t a misguided fear just a misinformed one because he didn’t know the Leonard Snart that Barry had fallen in love with. “I was wrong.”

Before Len could express gratitude or forgiveness, before he could even decide if he was going to say anything at all, a twitch of the hand between his stole all his attention. He nearly jumped out of his chair, moving to sit on the edge of the bed by Barry’s hip.

“Scarlet?” Len’s voice cracked, squeezing the twitching hand in his. He watched as Barry stirred slightly, turning his head slightly on the pillow as his eyelids twitched. 

Len glanced up as Joe stood, watching as Barry cracked his eyes open just barely before closing them again, forehead pinched as he struggled to come awake. 

“Come on, baby, let me see those eyes,” Len encouraged softly, keeping one hand still squeezing Barry’s encouragingly while he brushed the fingers on his left back through Barry’s hair before gently traveling down the side of his face, cradling his check in his hand. 

They heard Barry sigh as he leaned into the soothing touch and eyes fluttered open. 

“There you are,” Len smiled, unaware of the tears that began to fall. Len barely heard Joe say he was going to get Caitlin before leaving them alone in the medbay, all his attention focused on Barry who licked his lips and stared up at him, half-open eyes full of confusion. Barry tried to say what Len thought was his name but came out as nothing more than a breath. Len brought the hand in his to his lips, kissing the knuckles right above the edge of the bandages before resting the hand against his own cheek.

Barry smiled as best as he could, his own tears falling as he tried to say Len’s name again, two fingers unfolding from where they were wrapped loosely wrapped around Len’s and stroked the side of Len’s face.

“I love you,” Len whispered as he turned to kiss the hand he held against his face again and with another faint smile, Barry fell back asleep. Len wanted to shake him, to keep him awake and with him, to see those eyes and hear him try to say his name again but even though Barry had been unconscious for the last few days, Len knew he couldn't be selfish. After everything he’d been through, Barry at least deserved the rest. So Len would wait till he was ready. 

He would wait forever for Barry if he had to. And he knew now unequivocally the people that Barry loved most would let him wait with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Roses" by Darren Hayes


	17. Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The road is long, so keep your faith  
> And when your zero has come, it’s gonna be alright  
> The road is long, so just hang on  
> It’s gonna be alright  
> Oh, you’ll be strong, you’ll hold on  
> You will get through it  
> And when you can’t do it, I’ll make you better than that "

Waking up was slow, gradual the first few times. It took him three days after being rescued to finally open his eyes, not truly waking up yet, never long enough to string a coherent sentence together. Barry could hear voices and movement of the people around him, the beeps of the machines surrounding him but he was still lost that drifting sensation of between awake and asleep. He let himself stay in that drifty place for a few long minutes, enjoying just being warm, feeling comfortable, and pain-free. It was a nice change from the hell he normally felt anytime he’d woken up in the medbay these last few years without the aid of painkillers. He never stayed awake for more than a few minutes at first, long enough to see that Len was okay or that Joe was okay, drifting back before he could ask about what happened with or how bad it was. 

On the fourth day, after two days of unconsciousness and one day of sporadic brief awakenings as he fought through the sedatives and got a little stronger, he started to come into awareness. The first time he truly woke up it was like waking from a nightmare, nothing gentle about it like the previous times. Barry’s heart rate skyrocketed, his breathing quick and heavy as awareness came back, as his memory flooded with flashes of pain, immobility, darkness but unable to point to the cause of it. 

He cried out. He tried to lift his head but the movement made him painfully aware of the state of his body. He grimaced, his head falling back to the pillow, unable to move anything else, his body feeling like one dull ache. It had to look as awful as it felt to cause the exhausted and worn look his father wore, dark circles surrounding his eyes that Barry desperately sought answers in. Joe’s dark brown eyes were steady on Barry’s and although they were tired, they were firm, solid in their strength and support as Barry’s pleaded for help.

“I got you,” Joe assured, providing a steel solid comfort to Barry whose heart slowed, breathing eased as he found himself grounded in Joe’s presence, just like so many times before in his life. When Joe shifted slightly. Barry panicked and reached up to shakily grab the hand rubbing soft circles on his chest, fearing Joe intended to leave. 

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” Joe tried to smile but Barry had seen that kind of smile from Joe before. He was doing it for his sake, trying to comfort him but the smile unable to reach his eyes because it was shrouded in either sadness, concern, or a mix of both.

“Hurt,” Barry managed, his voice breathy, weak.

“Yeah, you’re hurt pretty bad, son,” Joe responded, shifting his hand to lay over Barry’s on his chest, mindful of the bandages still wrapped around the palms as he gripped it reassuringly.

Barry wanted to respond but couldn’t find the words. With an impatient frown and slight shake of his head, Barry squeezed Joe’s hand, needing Joe to understand what he was asking. Joe’s face shifted to confusion and then softened in realization. Barry wasn’t asking about himself. Joe sighed, moving his other hand to lay gently across Barry’s forehead. 

“Everyone’s fine,” Joe watched Barry’s eyes close in relief, a tear escaping, its trail down the side of his face stopped only by the bandage on his cheek. “I’m fine, Len’s fine, Iris is fine, everyone’s fine. We’re all just worried about you, kiddo.”

Barry swallowed a few times, letting the tears fall as Joe continued to tell him he was safe, everyone was safe. Barry said little else, just let Joe’s words soothe over him as stroked back his hair, focusing on his breathing until it evened out and he fell back asleep gentler than he’d woken up. 

The second time he woke fully it was with a gasp. 

“Barry,” he heard a voice to his right say, saw in his clouded peripheral vision Len raise from the seat beside the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Barry, hey. It’s okay.” 

Len took Barry’s right hand, prying it gently loose from the fitted sheet, Barry only just realizing he’d fisted the material tightly, holding so hard his palm hurt. Len held Barry’s hand between both of his, gentle yet firm, warm and comforting. Barry turned his head on the pillow and looked at Len.

“You’re here,” Barry sighed, a smile on his face. Len suddenly felt a surge of guilt. He hadn’t been here when Barry woke up a couple of hours ago, having decided he needed a hot shower to relax his muscles after falling asleep for the third night in a row in the chair by Barry’s bedside. Of course, the minute he left Barry woke up in pain according to Joe. 

But Len’s self-pity party was interrupted when Barry’s smile of relief dropped as his expression turned to panic, looking around the room wildly and Len was sure he wasn’t seeing where he actually was. “Where’s Joe? You have to leave! Len, please, Mardon-“

“Scarlet, you’re safe,” Len cut him off, moving one hand to gently but firmly grip the side of Barry’s neck, the pressure forcing Barry’s wild eyes to look at him. Caitlin had said the confusion was normal considering how long he’d been out, the painkillers, and the trauma he’d suffered. It hurt Len’s heart though knowing every time Barry woke up, he had to suffer through that fear each time. “Mardon’s locked up. We brought you home. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Barry focused on Len, tried to calm his breathing, feeling safe with Len’s grounding hands. When he calmed, his eyes searched the room again, slower, taking it in and seeing he was safe in the medbay at S.T.A.R. Labs. His hands and wrists were in thickly wrapped bandages, the left one in a sling. His abdomen was also wrapped to support his ribs and patches of gauze covered various cuts, the knife wounds stitched up. The head of the bed he was in was elevated, probably so he could breathe easier. 

“He didn’t hurt you? Joe?” Barry looked to Len again, voice shaking. 

“No one else got hurt,” Len reassured and by the sad tone in his voice, Barry could tell this wasn’t the first time he’d been asked this question by him, not remembering the conversation they had in the cellar before losing consciousness. 

“He didn’t get to Iris or Lisa, right?” Barry pleaded and the look in Len’s eyes told him this too was not a new question. It was a look he’d seen before, exasperation not because he was repeating himself, but because once again Barry could only focus on everyone else.

“No, Barry, you were the only one he hurt,” it was Len’s turn to plead, begging Barry to focus on himself, on his recovery. But he instantly regretted it when guilt flashed across Barry’s face. Len leaned forward, two small feather-light kisses to Barry’s still cracked lips before gently pressing their foreheads together. 

“I’m sorry,” Len sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s just...I was afraid I’d lose you, Scarlet.”

Len’s hand slid down from his neck to rest over his heart and Barry can see the tears forming in his eyes before he closed them. Barry had stopped being surprised by Len’s willingness to open up quite some time ago. A couple of weeks after they started seeing each other as they watched the sunset with expensive wine, Len had told him how difficult it was for him to be open and authentic but wanted to with Barry. But even though Len shared his emotions freely now, he rarely got overtly emotional, wasn’t a crier. And that was okay with Barry because as far he was concerned, he cried enough for both of them. So to see Len tear up, especially in this quiet moment between them where it was just brought on by a surge of concern and relief, Barry wished he had two good arms to wrap around his boyfriend and hold him tightly. 

“But you didn’t,” Barry’s voice was barely a whisper, turning his hand over to lace their fingers together. Len wouldn’t open his eyes though, but Barry was relieved he didn’t pull away from him physically, his hand still enveloped in his, foreheads leaning against each other, Len’s thumb brushing along his collarbone as his hand rested over Barry’s heart. Barry needed to pull him back to him, bring him back from his place of guilt. To do that though, Barry knew he had to lean into it first. “Len, please look at me. I need you here with me right now.” 

Len’s eyes blinked open at Barry’s broken voice, his hand moving from his heart back to curl around his neck. Barry knew it was a cheap shot but he didn’t want Len to get lost in his guilt, just like Len didn’t want Barry to lose himself in his fear. 

Barry’s fingers tightened around Len’s own, Len’s eyes were moist with unshed tears but Barry could feel his tears spilling over his cheeks. Barry knew he’d been unconscious probably for days but he felt like he hadn’t stopped crying since he finally allowed himself to after Mardon attempted to molest him. And the memory of that made him shudder and Barry suddenly needed to replace that feeling. He leaned forward the few centimeters between them, a soft, meeting of lips that made his breath catch in his throat, made the memory, the pain go away for just a moment. Len tilted his head, unable to stop himself from trying to deepen the kiss when Barry suddenly pulled away with a sob.

“I’m sorry,” Barry cried as he buried his face in Len's neck and Len’s moved his hand to wrap around his back, pulling him close, gentle with Barry’s injured body, their interlocked hands pressed between them. Len’s chin settled on top of his head and finally gave into own tears as he held Barry. Eventually, Barry cried himself to sleep in Len’s arms, reluctant to ease him back against the bed because after coming so close to losing him, Len didn’t ever want to let him go again.

By day six it felt like everyone had settled, including Barry. They still took turns sitting in the medbay, Len a near-permanent fixture. Barry could stay awake for a few hours at a time but still needed quite a bit of rest as his healing powers slowly but finally started to kick in.

“He was starved and dehydrated. To get him back to his metabolic baseline it's going to take a few days of intravenous fluids. I started him on nutrients but when he’s more alert and awake we need to get him to eat. Protein shakes, soft high-calorie foods to ease his stomach and not shock his system,” Caitlin had explained to them in the beginning. “His healing powers may kick in before we get his nutrition up to where it needs to be. If that happens his body will have an increased demand for energy by trying to heal itself and will feed off what it can. We have to gradually increase his intake of calories, protein, carbohydrates, fluids, and vitamins and minerals. Our aim is to reduce the risk of developing complications by flooding his system too quickly.”

Barry didn’t complain, only when Cisco brought Len and Caitlin Big Belly Burger. When Caitlin gave him a less than sympathetic look as he groaned at the smell of the take out, Barry held up his right hand in defense, the left still in the sling.

“I know, I know,” Barry sighed. Eating anything too heavy at this point could make him vomit and based on how his body felt, nothing about that felt worth it. The bruises began to fade, the smaller cuts now thin fine lines. But he knew he wasn’t anywhere near his metabolic baseline to have then energy his body needed to heal the shoulder separation, the stab wounds in his hands, or the shattered knee. Although it didn’t usually take him this long to start healing, it wasn’t an unfamiliar situation. And even though he knew how fiercely his body would reject even a fry or two, it didn’t mean the wafting scents of his favorite take-out weren’t enticing. Luckily, the boredom of not being able to eat with them and the conversation between Len, Cait, and Cisco lulled him into a slumber that left him blissfully ignorant of what he was missing in those white paper bags. 

It would be a week before Caitlin would even entertain the idea of letting him leave the medbay. They had made a deal that if he could keep at least one thousand calories down without getting sick and his levels were more than half of his normal baseline when she tested them at the end of the day, then she would consider releasing him from her watchful eye. 

Halfway through the day, he’d successfully managed to keep down broth and Jell-O; so far things were starting to look good for Barry. He did pass out though after his yogurt, drifting in and out as Iris sat by his bedside reading him the “exclusive interview” with the Flash she’d written about why the city hadn’t seen the hero in almost two weeks. It was a story about the scarlet speedster recovering, an inspiring exposé about how even heroes need to practice self-care. Ever since Barry was young, Iris took a vested interest in supporting mental health causes and she was excited to write a piece that showcased the cause in the framework of Central City’s favorite hero. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out or at what point in her article he’d fallen asleep. But as he began to drift back awake he heard her say,“Hey Len.” He was still in that drifty space, trying to pull himself out of it, wanting to open his eyes to join the conversation. Especially since he wanted to know how it went at CCPD for his boyfriend. 

“How is he?” Len asked, and Barry could have sworn he heard what sounded like a kiss on a cheek as he came closer to where Iris sat on the bed. The idea of his boyfriend and Iris being that comfortable with each other would have filled his heart with joy if he wasn’t so damn frustrated with himself as he tried to get his body to cooperate with the desire to wake up.

“He’s been asleep mostly since you’ve been gone. How was being at the police station and giving a statement rather than being questioned?” Barry heard the cheeky smile in her voice.

“Awkward. I think I prefer being arrested,” Len answered back, a joke but with a high level of truth. He sensed his presence as Len leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, brushing back his hair. It felt wonderful but did nothing to help Barry wake up. “But not anywhere near the kind of reception I got last time I was there.”

“Barry’s kind of the little brother of the CCPD. I mean we practically grew up there before he even started working as a CSI. Dad probably gave them all the ‘what’s what’ talk about you and him,” Iris replied and Barry heard the closing of her laptop as she gave Len her full attention.

“Well Joe gave his statement, and now I’ve given mine. They’re eager to move forward with the case against Mardon. They’re talking about coming by tomorrow to get Barry’s before Caitlin lets him leave. If she lets him leave,” He could hear Len pacing as he spoke. Whether it was anxiety from where he’d just come from or overprotectiveness about Barry having to tell his story, he couldn’t be sure. But he knew his boyfriend was on edge and the urge to comfort him was enough to make the fog finally lift.

“He’s doing a lot better, I think he’ll be okay to go home tomorrow,” Iris tried to reassure. “Beside’s after a week of worrying about him, he can just turn those puppy eyes on Caitlin and she’ll totally cave.”

“I don’t have puppy eyes,” Barry spoke, eyes closed, voice rough and heavy. 

“Hey,” Iris said, her hands quickly reaching to hold his with a gentle grasp between them, her thumb gliding soothing lines over the edge of the bandages, “you’re supposed to be asleep so we can talk about you.”

“So sorry to interrupt,” Barry smiled lazily at her, eyes finally peeling open. “And that I fell asleep on you. I liked the article, what I heard of it anyway.”

“Well, direct quotes from the Flash were a big help so thanks for the exclusive,” she winked at him. She looked over her shoulder to Len who was itching to move closer but not wanting to crowd him. “I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee from the lounge and I’m going to bring you back some more yogurt and maybe a banana. Exciting right?”

“My favorite,” he chuckled at her over-enthusiastic grin. She smiled down at him, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. He whispered a quiet ‘thank you’ for her consideration to give him and Len the room and was rewarded with another wink before she pulled away. He watched as she placed a hand on Len’s arm before leaving them alone in the medbay. 

“Hey,” Barry called out to him, trying to get his right arm to take his weight as he struggled to sit up. Len made quick strides to his bedside and tried to help him, warm hands steadying him.

“Hey relax, not so fast,” Len scolded as Barry settled back against the pillow, more comfortable in his upright position. Len not realizing he even made a pun told Barry just how anxious he was. 

“If I move any slower Cisco’s going to start calling me Turtle instead of the Flash,” Barry joked, patting the empty spot on the mattress, motioning to Len. He obliged, smirked at him as he sat at the edge of the bed but Barry could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. He could see his lover's eyes taking in his every movement, watching for obvious and not so obvious signs of pain; he didn’t miss how Len’s eyes lingered on Barry’s bandaged hand as it moved from the mattress to Len’s thigh.

“I’m okay, Len,” Barry said softly, “promise.” 

“I know you are,” Len sighed, his eyes lifting to meet his, “I’m just not used to...this.”

This. Being the worrier, feeling helpless, loving someone so fully that their pain becomes your pain. All he wanted to do was take Barry out of here, away and never come back, keep him from anything ever happening to him again and do nothing but be together. Just them, only them. 

“Well, you’re doing great,” Barry smiled up at him, trying to reassure him that even though Len wasn’t used to it, having him here meant more to Barry than he could know. “The only way you could be doing any better was if you were in this stupid bed with me instead of sleeping in that chair, which I know for a fact is not comfortable.”

Len just snorted in agreement, unable to help himself as he smoothed the rumpled blanket over Barry’s body, tucking it more securely around his waist as it had come undone when he had tried to sit up. Barry couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped at Len’s ministrations and Len glared at him before Barry brought his hand from Len’s thigh to the base of Len’s neck. 

Len clasped the forearm by his cheek as Barry’s fingers tried to find purchase at the back of Len’s head, rubbing the scalp with his fingertips, relishing the familiar feel of his lover’s buzzed hair. Barry pulled Len down to his lips. It was a soft delicate brush at first but Barry tugged at his neck till it was crushing, hungry. Somewhere over the noise of his own heartbeat and Len’s deep breath, Barry could hear his heart monitor speed up, ruining the moment. Len groaned against his lips as he broke the kiss with a smile.   
“Not to ruin the moment any further, but how did it go?” Barry settled back against the pillows, trying not to convey how anxious he was to hear about Len’s time at CCPD. 

“A lot different than the last time I was there,” Len joked, crossing one leg over the other as he made himself more comfortable on the edge of the bed, facing Barry. “For starters, I gave my statement in the captain’s office instead of cuffed in an interrogation room which was slightly more comfortable. Not by much, though.”

Barry snorted. He tried to imagine Len in Joe’s office, probably casing it for all the ways he could break-in in the future while giving his statement. But the humor died as he watched Len pick at lint off the bedsheet, razor focus attention to something Barry was sure didn’t require it. 

Barry knew that Len didn’t want to talk about him, about his experience. He knew Len wanted to know more of what happened to Barry, what they hadn’t seen in the hours between video calls, or had to piece together from seeing his wounds. They knew he was shot in the knee but why, that his shoulder was separated but how. Barry overheard that tomorrow they wanted to take his statement but Barry wasn’t looking forward to. With the pain medication, he’d been able to keep the memories from haunting his dreams too much, had not been awake long enough to think about it too deeply, and been distracted by the round the clock visitors he’d had to not be alone with his thoughts. Without giving voice to it he could almost pretend he was laid up from just another meta of the week. Almost. The looks on the faces of the people he loved, the worry, and the fear, that kept it from actually happening. He needed to talk to them about what happened, for his own sake as much as theirs. 

“Barry, I think you and I need to talk,” Len broke the silence, finally stopping his task of ridding the blanket of non-existent lint to focus on Barry now. Apparently Len was lost in the same train of thought Barry had been just moments ago. 

“When we got you back-“ Len halted, trying to find the words. Barry had never seen him falter for words before, even if he was having trouble expressing emotion, he was thoughtful with his words. Either anger or frustration would mask when the man couldn’t say what he wanted, a quick jab or sharp comment, an eloquent turn of phrase or waxing poetic even. “There was a video Mardon sent me.”

“Len, I’m so sorry,” Barry interrupted, his voice hitching. The video of him having to disavow his love for Joe and Len had probably been the most painful of his experiences, worse than the physical torture of the waterboarding, something he hadn’t even told them about yet. But a close second, something that would haunt Barry for a while he suspected, was the video he was dreading to discuss with Len. 

“What could you possibly be apologizing for?” Len looked at him, horrified. 

“I had hoped...that he did it just to mess with me. I didn’t want you to have to see that. I hate that he sent it to you,” Barry couldn’t stop the rawness in his voice, hearing the ping of the phone as the recording button was hit, as loud in his ear as if it was happening again. 

“This isn’t about me, Scarlet. hate that you had to go through that,” Len scooted further up the bed from Barry's hip to where the mattress bent, his body as close to Barry’s as the position would allow. “You have nothing, nothing, to apologize for, you hear me?”

Barry just nodded, not trusting his voice to betray him.

“He sent it to just me. I didn’t share it, didn’t think you’d want anyone else to see,” Len picked up Barry’s hand and held it between his, tracing the fingers and curves, not in comfort, but in grounding. Barry recognized the difference, had felt that urge many times in his life, knew what the tactile sensation of his lover's hand in his did to calm him. He’d never experienced Len do it, wondering if maybe Len had picked up the habit from him. “But when they were documenting your injuries, I told them about it. Joe, Cecile, and Caitlin.”

“I know,” Barry dipped his head, catching Len’s eye. “Caitlin apologized to me yesterday while she was changing my bandages, said she felt like she was violating my privacy by having to perform a sexual assault kit.” 

It was only yesterday, a rare moment when Len had left the medbay to do something so mundane as relieve himself. Caitlin had told him to take his time as she had to do an exam to check on the progress of his healing and redress the bandaging. It had just been Barry and her in the medbay, halfway through the exam in tears she apologized, to which Barry was quick to quash her guilt. He was a CSI. He’d performed them himself, unfortunately, and knew just how important they were. He also reassured her that it never got to that, that Mardon had done nothing past touching him. Barry realized he had not revealed that to anyone else, not even his partner. 

So Barry told him what he experienced, the video playing in Len’s mind as Barry described it. He told Len that it hadn’t gone further, even though Mardon’s lewd comments about his mouth and exploring hands had Barry terrified that it would. He knew that just because it hadn’t escalated to rape didn’t invalidate the fact that he’d been molested but it was something he would have to process, to deal with, just like everything else Mardon had done to him. 

“I want to be with you when you give your statement tomorrow,” Len said as the topic shifted. “I don’t want you to be alone when you have to relive it.” 

“I won’t be alone. Joe and Cecile will be here with me when I give my statement to the detective,” Barry assured, squeezing the hand that still held his. 

“Fine. What I mean is I don’t want to leave you alone again,” Len squeezed back. “I wasn’t there for you when you went through it.”

Barry didn’t even try to talk him out of it. Even if he wanted to spare Len hearing the recount of what happened, he would end up telling him anyway. Maybe it was best for Len to hear it all, the truth, rather than Barry trying to share it later, knowing he would try to spare the details in an effort to protect Len. His boyfriend didn’t need his protection, would probably be offended by it, and the notion of Len being there with him as he relived every detail for the first time since living it, it brought him comfort. 

And it did. The next day, Caitlin gave him the go-ahead to go home after a final checkup right before the interview. An hour after, Joe, Cecile, and Detective Rowell sat around the bed in the medbay. Len sat beside him, holding his right hand the entire time as he told them of how he’d been caught off guard in the alley when he thought someone was in distress. He told them about waking up in the house, the videos, the threats about Iris and Lisa. There were long pauses of silence as Barry would gather his thoughts. He managed to keep his composure as best he could as he recounted the details they weren’t aware of like the escape attempt that resulted in his shoulder injury, the waterboarding to get him to deliver the painful video disavowing Joe and Len. Tears escaped but his voice remained steady as Rowell took notes, a recording device on the bed next to Barry picking up his every word. As he came to the end, after Len had arrived and Mardon knocked his would-be-rescuer out, Barry spoke of the threats and taunting Mardon had made while trussing him to the wall, the knives being stabbed through his hands and Mardon using him as a cutting board, he could feel the slight tremble in the hand that held his, knowing Len’s blood was boiling. But he stayed silent, a quiet strength that Barry could pull from in the two hours it took to tell his story. 

When they were finished, Cecile offered to walk Rowel out, her own face wet with tears that had silently fallen during Barry’s story. When the door closed behind them as they left the medbay, Barry collapsed against the bed in exhaustion. He was relieved he hadn’t crumbled into a mess of sobs like he thought he might but now that it was over, Barry felt his body trying to give in. Quiet tears rolled down his cheeks as he tried to calm his breathing. He’d blame it on the pain meds starting to not work anymore due to his metabolism beginning to kick in, but he knew as his body shook trying to keep himself together, that the only thing to blame was Mark Mardon. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Len growled, arms crossed over his chest.

“Not before I get to him,” Joe clenched his fists.

“If you’re only gonna end up killing him then I just went through all that for nothing,” Barry joked with a sigh, the tears still falling as he placed a shaky right hand to rub at his eyes.

Joe and Len turned to look at each other before turning to watch Barry. The room was silent but heavy, both men standing unsure of what Barry needed right now. 

“I’m fine, guys,” Barry said, answering their unasked question, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm before finally looking between them. “I’m just ready to get the hell out of here.”

“I’ll send Caitlin in,” Joe stated, approaching the bed. He leaned over the bed, resting his hand atop of Barry’s head. Len watched as Barry looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, instant relief at his father's proximity. “I’m gonna take Cecile home, she wants to get the house ready. Then I’ll be back to pick you guys up.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Barry sighed, giving him a half-smile, about all he could muster up at the moment. Joe stroked Barry’s hairline, a long appraising look at his son as if to decide for himself if Barry really was okay, lingering for a moment before pulling away. Barry leaned further back, eyes closed with another sigh, his right arm reaching across to cradle the left arm still in the sling. Joe watched him before turning to leave. He gave Len a nod and then jerked his head slightly, motioning towards Barry, before exiting the medbay.

Len strode over slowly, arms falling to his side as he finally uncrossed them. He grabbed one of the rolling stools and dragged it to the head of the bed on Barry’s left. He leaned forward till his elbows touched his knees, hands rubbing at his face. He knew what some of what Barry had been through but hearing it from his lips, it shook him. He’d dealt with trauma a good portion of his life, but other than his father threatening Lisa’s life with a bomb implanted her head, Len had never know anger, fear, pain, or the desire to make someone suffer as much as he did knowing what Mardon had put Barry through. 

“You think so loudly,” Barry’s voice interrupted his inner thoughts. Len dropped his hands and lifted his head, hazel eyes staring back at him, smirking.

Len blinked, “not as loud as you snore.”

Barry stuck his tongue at him and Len rolled the stool a little closer. 

“I can’t wait to snore in your ear so loud tonight,” Barry glared but its not as effective as he hoped with drying eyes. Len smiled at him, reaching a hand to brush back the hair. 

“I can’t wait either,” Len smiled and Barry’s glare melted into contentment. “I can't wait to hold you in my arms tonight.”

Barry learned up and Len closed the distance with a soft kiss, Barry sighing against him. He felt so exposed, so raw just minutes ago after reliving what he went through. But just a few moments with Len, a few gentle touches and looking into his eyes, and Barry suddenly felt safe, grounded, content. He felt home. 

“Len, about tonight,” Barry started, biting his lip. He knew Len wouldn’t give him grief with what he was about to ask him to do, but he hoped he wasn’t asking too much of the man. “Usually when I need to heal and rest for more than a day or two, I stay at Joe’s. It’s just healing, I need a lot of rest and a lot of food and I can’t keep up with it all myself. And when I was with Iris she couldn’t cook but don’t tell her I said that. Not to mention the stairs with the apartment-“

“Barry,” Len tried to interrupt the rambling but Barry continued frantically. 

“And Joe worries, and he worries less when his ‘kids are under his roof’. Plus having the help when I can’t physically get around so easy. I know it’s asking a lot-“

“Scarlet,” Len said a little firmer, and Barry’s mouth shut with clack looking expectantly up at him. “We’ll stay with Joe as long as you need or want.”

“Are you sure?” 

“I know what that house means to you. It’s your safe place,” Len brushed back the hair, trying to soothe the other man’s concern for his feelings. He couldn’t say he was thrilled at the idea of staying at a cops house, but this Joe West, the man who saved Barry’s life when he had no one. Len was perfectly aware of what the West home meant to his boyfriend. Barry had told him that after his mom died, it was the only home he had, that after losing everything, it gave him something. No matter whatever happened in his life, he knew he could always come back to that house, to his family.

“Even if it means sharing a bed with the captain of the CCPD’s son in his own house?” Barry smirked at him, trying to make light to distract from the swell of gratitude he felt. 

“Oh, Scarlet, you know me. That kind of thing is half of the fun,” Len winked and was rewarded with a small laugh from Barry, a sound he hadn’t heard since before Barry was taken and Len tried not to get pulled under by the wave of just how close he was to losing him. “I told you before, I don’t care we are. Home is wherever I’m with you. Even if it's at the house of a CCPD captain.”

Barry’s face became somber suddenly and Len watched as he swallowed nervously. 

“Len,” he said softly. “The house.”

Len took a deep inhale, exhaled deeply.

“It was supposed to be a surprise. A nice little bungalow that needed a lot of TLC. You liked it so much from what you saw online, I put the offer on it so we didn’t run the risk of losing it,” Len confessed, fingers absently stroking Barry’s hair. “I thought you and I...” he sighed, “I withdrew the offer the day we got you back.”

“Thank god,” Barry laughed in relief before leaning closer to Len, love radiating from his features. “But thank you..that’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I just wanted to give you that home you were looking for,” Len said, apologetic, hopelessly in love and wanting nothing more than to give Barry everything he could ever want. But Barry just smiled and gave Len that look again, the one that made Len feel like he’d hung the moon and stars themselves. 

“You already have.”

____________________________________________________

Barry felt better than he had in days. His hyper healing had finally kicked it, albeit slower than usual. He’d finally hit the three thousand calorie mark, less than a third of his baseline but it was still progress, enough progress for Caitlin to sign off on him going home. 

“Your muscles will feel weak, your mood may be low, poor concentration, and you may have difficulty keeping warm for a little while longer. Just listen to your body, eat what you can, and try not to overdo it,” Caitlin had warned before he was wheeled into the elevator, unable to opt for a crutch to support his right knee because of the distance between the Cortex and where Joe’s SUV was parked outside. He was still tired most of the time but Caitlin said that was to be expected.  
The slow healing was taking all his energy but at least he was healing. His hands were still wrapped in bandages from the stab wounds but his wrists were healed, the raised white flesh of scaring the only remnant that would fade soon. His ribs were still wrapped with a compression bandage but the stab wounds and cuts had all healed. His shoulder was mostly healed, out of the immobilizer, and in a simple sling that Caitlin said he could take off when he got home but to use it when sore. His knee still had a brace on it, the slowest injury to heal. He could walk on it, albeit with a limp but not for too long. The wheelchair was used to get him to the car but Caitlin said he could walk on it around the house since it was short distances with a crutch to keep the pressure off for when his arm was out of the sling.

The knee was the injury that worried him the most. He was a CSI, he knew the human body, knew the damage gunshots caused. The knee joint was a bundle of bone, cartilage, and muscle fibers, nerve bundles. Because of all that in one little package, an injury to the knee was among some of the worst pain a person could tolerate, especially with the fact that it provided mobility. But it wasn’t the pain that worried Barry. It was taking longer than the rest of his injuries to heal and the fear was starting to creep in there might be permanent damage. Barry wasn’t sure if he could deal with that, not his leg. He needed it at full mobility to run like he did. But he tried not to get lost in that. He wasn’t great at following instructions when it came to self-care and taking it easy, but if it meant his leg healing perfectly, he would listen. And between Cecile, Joe, and Len all staying with him for the next few days, he knew he really wouldn’t have much of a choice. 

He was feeling more alive than he had in days, even though the short trip from S.T.A.R. Labs to Joe’s left him tired. He sat in the back seat of Joe’s SUV with Len, listed to the side with his head on Len’s shoulder, snoring softly. He had to lean heavily on Joe as he made his way up the steps of the porch, Len trailing behind them with their bags in hand, ready to drop them in an instant if Barry lost his footing. He’d napped on the couch with his head held up by a propped up elbow on the armrest as Joe helped Cecile in the kitchen prepare dinner, Len and Iris chatting quietly as they sat with him in the living room. Barry ate two platefuls of Cecile’s Grandma Millie’s Chicken and Dumplings, her recipes rivaling Joe’s Grandma Esther. It wasn’t as much as he could normally pack away, but his appetite was coming back, his speedster equilibrium begging to normalize, no longer getting sick as he increased his caloric intake. 

But even with the increased metabolism and the healing, Barry’s body was still trying to catch up and it was wiping him out as he tried to get back to his normal baseline. So it was early to bed, not long after dinner, with a kiss on the cheek from Cecile and the offer to stay as long as he needed, Barry hugged Joe and Iris goodnight as Len helped him take the steps towards his old bedroom. And even though it was only eight p.m., Len didn’t reemerge, instead staying with Barry as the healing man slept.

The rules were the same, regardless of how old his children got or who their partners were. If they were under his roof and were ‘entertaining’ guests, the bedroom door stayed open at least three inches. It gave him peace of mind and it also allowed him to check in on them, something he’d been doing for as long he could remember. And when they were hurting, when they were struggling, Joe couldn’t sleep till he knew his kids were at least safe and resting. 

Hurting and struggling didn’t seem to be words strong enough to describe what his son was going through. He was targeted as Barry Allen, not the Flash. He was tortured for being Barry Allen, not the Flash. He was punished for being Joe West’s son, victimized for being the partner of Leonard Snart. Tied and beaten, held captive for days, used as nothing more than a device to cause pain to the people he loved. He may be one of the greatest heroes their Earth had ever known, but prior to his powers, he was just a kid trying to make the world a better place in any way he could. He wasn’t an officer or a soldier, wasn’t trained in combat or prepared for battle. No matter what he’d been through, what he came up against, there was no way to be ready for it. And sometimes these things caught up to his son. Things like being betrayed by a man he trusted, by watching his father killed in front of him, by being beaten and dragged around the city by his neck, by a haunting visage of a broken version of himself hurting the ones he loved. It was the things that followed him, that woke Barry in the night because even heroes get haunted by shadows. And Joe just knew that being taken, beaten, his pain used to cause pain to his father and lover, that would be something added to the list of things that tormented Barry. 

Joe saw it the first night at the house. It was around nine when Iris left, having considered staying the night in case they needed her, in case Barry needed her, but with Len here she decided it was no longer her place to be the first responder to comfort or aid Barry. It was a bittersweet revelation but she was at peace bowing out and passing the privilege of being Barry’s protector to his new love. It was around ten when Cecile had gone to check on Jenna with a promise to meet Joe upstairs. As he made his way to the second floor, he stopped at the first room on the right, soft steps not alerting his hovering presence as he lingered in the door frame and peered in through the barely cracked door of Barry’s old bedroom. 

The bedside lamp was on, casting a warm glow over the otherwise dark room. Len and Barry lay on their sides facing each other, chest to chest, a thin sheet pulled up to just above their waists and Joe could see through the odd curvature that their legs were entwined beneath. But there was no uncomfortableness at witnessing the closeness of the two men because Joe could hear the muffled sniffling, all too familiar with the sound of his son trying to keep himself from falling apart. The light of the lamp revealed Barry’s face damp with tears as he pressed his cheek against Len’s neck, his arms trapped between their bodies as his fists clutched at the front of Len’s T-shirt. Len had one arm wrapped around Barry’s waist and the other bracing Barry’s spine as he held him close against him, quiet whispers as soft as the crying. 

“Baby, it’s okay,” he could hear Len say in a hushed voice, laced in as much despair as the voice that answered back.

“No, it’s not,” Barry sniffed, his voice shaking. “I should be stronger than this. I’ve been through worse.” 

“You’ve been through different,” Len replied, hand rubbing up and down Barry’s spine through the fabric of his sweatshirt. “You can’t fault yourself for being human.”

“This is part of my job though,” Barry argued, the hitch in his voice betraying his conviction as the tears still flowed. 

“It isn’t,” Len replied, gently grabbing Barry’s chin with his right hand, tilting his head up so he could look in his eyes. “Nothing about this is part of your job. You weren’t taken because you’re the Flash. You were taken because of who loves you, not because you’re a hero. You were hurt to hurt the people who love you, tortured because of what you mean to us. He took you to punish me, hurt you to punish your father. You were a victim in this Scarlet, plain and simple.”

“He took away my powers Len and he didn't even know,” Barry rasped, emotions threatening to overtake him. It wasn’t so much the physical torture, although that had been traumatizing enough. It was when he was left alone. Unable to get free, left there in silence and pain and fear of the threats to Len and Joe, of wondering if next time Mardon came back would it be with Iris or Lisa and he’d watch them be put through what he had been. It was psychological torture, waiting for Len and Joe to be brought in, seeing them one last time before he was killed in front of them, knowing Mardon was going to kill them next. He would take the physical pain any day over that agony. “I’m supposed to be a hero. I couldn’t even get myself out of there.”

“We all need saving some time, even heroes,” Len’s voice hitched, heartbreaking at the pain his love was in. “You’ve been saving me every day since we first met.”

Barry’s hands flexed against the shirt at Len’s chest, eyes blinking rapidly as he gazed up at Len as he spoke before sobs wracked his body. He knew Len was right but it made it worse somehow. If he could convince himself he was overreacting, maybe he thought he could get through what was done to him but he was lying to himself. He ducked his head back into the crook of Len’s neck as he cried, the visions of his dreams haunting him, not because they were nightmares but vivid memories of pain, immobility, and fear. 

“You’ve been through so much in your life, emotionally, physically, mentally. You’re a survivor,” Len continued, curling his hand into Barry’s hair, tucking him close as his other hand continued rubbing soothingly up and down his spine. “There are just some things, though they don’t seem to be the worst we’ve been through, that just can wreck us. But you’ll get through it, I promise. You’ll survive this, too. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

Joe heard a broken ‘I love you’ in response whispered through tears, watched Len wrap his arms impossibly tighter around Barry as he said ‘I love you’ back, pressing a kiss to the top of Barry’s head. Joe then felt a warm hand on his shoulder interrupt his spectating as Cecile’s hand traveled down his arm to grab his hand, pulling him down the hall. Joe didn’t hesitate, having seen with his own eyes that his son was safe tonight. 

On the second night, Joe woke with a start, a terrible dream interrupting his sleep with a gasp. No, not a dream, a memory warped by fear and guilt, of finding Barry pinned to the wall with blades in his hands, gagged, chin to chest, a chest not rising with shaky inhales and exhales, Joe too late to save him. He brought a hand to rub at his face, pulling in a deep breath to calm his shaky nerves. He turned to see Cecile still sleeping peacefully, grateful he had not woken her up. 

He got out of bed, pulling on his robe with the intention to putter down to the kitchen for a shot of something to calm his nerves and hopefully help him back to sleep. He hadn’t mentioned to Barry or Len this morning what he’d witnessed the night before. Over the course of this week, the shift in seeing Leonard Snart as criminal to the man who loved his son took him by surprise. But after seeing how he held his son in his deepest grief, it was the final piece Joe needed to feel at ease. Well, as much as he could. He’d still always worry about his kids, especially their hearts, but maybe Leonard Snart was a suitable partner for his son after all.

When Joe cleared the last step, he shouldn’t have been surprised to see Barry sitting at the dining room table, nursing a glass of amber liquid. He made his way over to the table, leaning against the back of a chair on the opposite side of the table as Barry.

“How did you get down here?” Joe questioned, pressing his first instinct to scold his son, that he could have hurt himself trying to get down alone.

“Slow steps and stubbornness,” Barry shrugged with a small smile. 

“Thirsty?” Joe indicated with his head to the glass Barry held between his hands. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Barry sighed, gaze fixated on the drinking glass.

“Nightmares?” Joe asked softly. Barry nodded without looking up, his hands starting to shake so he hid them under the table but not before Joe saw them. He didn’t need to tell Joe how when he closed his eyes his mind flashed back to the cellar, to Joe trying to talk him through the pain as Len removed the blades from his hands. How he could feel the pain in his hands even though they were mostly healed, a blinding pain that ached as much as when they were pinned to the wall. How when he tried to calm himself he could feel the damp air in his lungs, the smell of the dirt and blood that seemed to hover around him. He didn’t need to tell Joe any of that, his father saw it in his weary eyes that stayed averted. 

“Me too,” Joe said when Barry answered his question without uttering a word. He grabbed the nearly empty glass from Barry and went into the kitchen to get a refill as well as a drink for himself. A whiff of the liquid and Joe was relieved to find it was apple juice in his son’s glass and not the scotch he sought after for himself. He heard Barry cough behind him and when he glanced over his shoulder, he could tell by the way Barry’s face tightened and held his abdomen that it was painful for him to do so. Caitlin warned him to keep an eye out for shortness of breath, wheezing, and fever as early signs of pneumonia but to not worry about the occasional cough.

Joe came back and sat down in the chair he had been leaning against, Barry thanking him when he handed the glass of apple juice, his voice a little rough from the coughing. 

“And you got down here by yourself?” Joe asked, raising the glass to his lips, not asking the real question on his mind.

Barry chuckled softly, “Not before convincing Len that I would be fine. I told him to go back to sleep but knowing him he’s probably lying awake in bed waiting till I get back.”

“He a worrier?”

“Overprotective,” Barry half-smiled, finally looking up at Joe. “Must be some truth to kids finding significant others that remind them of their parents.”

“Watch it,” Joe warned after nearly choking on his whiskey. The silence between them after wasn’t uncomfortable. It hung in the air like a warm summer storm, knowing whatever they discussed next would be heavy but also knowing that with the rain came clear skies. But Joe went with what he knew was infallible, the love and belief he had in his son’s resilience. So he reached out across the table to gently grasp his son's forearm.

“Barr, being used to getting hurt, recovering from it quickly, doesn’t mean you don’t feel pain and fear. No one is expecting you to bounce back from this. I know you’re tough, I know you’re strong, and I know you’ve gone through a hell of a lot. It’s okay if this takes time.”

The sentiment would seem out of context within the confines of a dining room at one a.m. but when Barry nodded at his words, his shoulders sinking as if a weight had been taken off, Joe was satisfied knowing he’d said what Barry needed to hear; permission to not be okay. He’d been giving it to Barry since he was eleven. He knew no one had taught Barry to pent-up his emotions, it wasn’t Henry or Nora’s style and it certainly hadn’t been Joe’s. If anything it had been the complete opposite but it was a defense Barry fell into shortly after his mother’s murder. For most of his lifetime, if it wasn’t a therapist who tried to teach him better coping mechanisms, it was Joe and Iris, both reminding him it was okay to let himself feel, even if it was only for a moment. Usually, it worked, Barry an open book, ready to spill his heart. But with the stuff that was really heavy, the heartbreaking or keep you up at night kind of things, Barry tended to suffer silently until forced to open up. It was just how he did things, willing himself not to burden others until he was granted permission. 

“And you got a lot of people here for you, including a partner who cares about you very much,” Joe added and watched as his son’s eyes began to shine.

“He really does,” Barry laughed wetly, smiling. Joe didn’t dare ask the questions he couldn’t help but want to ask; was Barry sure, why this man. Barry had spelled it out quite clear at the precinct. He’d also seen the answers from the other side, watching Leonard during Barry’s absence, knowing he went on his own to save him, sitting every day in the medbay as Barry lay unconscious. He noticed the gentle touches, heard the whispered words, saw the tears in the moments where the former criminal didn’t try to hide behind the persona Joe knew him better as. And whatever gaps in his doubts about the suitability of him as a partner for his son were filled in last night when he was an unobserved witness to a tender and raw moment between two men who clearly cared very much for each other. 

“Joe,” Barry started but was quickly cut off.

“I’m sorry it took this to make me come around, Barr,” Joe interrupted. When Barry smiled at him before dipping his head, he knew he needn’t say anything else, that his son understood. “If you’re not ready to go back to bed yet, I’m dying to hear how this all started.”

The smile that almost reached Barry’s eyes made Joe smile right back at him. So Barry dived into the story, skipping the parts you just don’t tell your dad, and Joe listened, so relieved to hear the happiness in his kid’s voice and the haunted look in his eyes disappear for the first time in days. Neither of them aware that from the top of the steps sat a man who was just coming down to check on his lover. He stopped because he didn’t want to interrupt Joe, but stayed because he didn’t want to miss Barry’s story.

In the evening on the third night, Joe was coming home from work, the sun setting a warm glow over the quiet suburb street. He had parked in the street as not to block in Iris’ Prius, glad to see he hadn’t missed her before she left. Getting out of his car he saw Leonard sitting on the top step of the porch, back braced against the wood column, a bottle of beer between his hands. 

“Evening, Detective,” he greeted, tipping his bottle. Joe nodded at him as he climbed the steps. 

“How’s it goin’?” Joe asked, crossing the porch to peer into the bay window. 

“Your kids both passed out while watching the movie,” Len supplied as Joe saw the two of them cuddled on the couch, Iris sitting upright, feet propped on the coffee table. Barry was stretched out across the cushions, head pillowed on her thigh, a blanket draped over him. “I didn’t want to disturb them so I thought I’d come out here.”

Joe placed his briefcase and jacket on the porch chair and went to sit on the left side across from Len. 

“Ya know that’s one of Barry’s thinkin’ spots,” Joe smirked at him. 

“I thought it had an existential quality about it,” Len joked and Joe smiled genuinely back at him.

“How is he today?” Joe questioned, leaning back against the post as Len told him that he hadn’t needed the sling all day, that Barry was able to take the wrappings off his hands and all that was visible was thin healing lines. Barry had eaten two full servings of pancakes and bacon, cooked by Len and not Iris thankfully, as well as one of Cisco’s protein bars before he even got to lunch. He still walked with a limp and wore the brace but he was definitely getting better more quickly. 

“He and Iris even baked brownies,” Len added, taking a swig of the beer, a satisfaction that Joe recognized, that relief when the worry starts to fade and you finally believe that maybe things are going to be alright.

“I gotta tell ya Snart, lesser men would not be okay with their boyfriend being so cuddly with their ex,” Joe couldn’t help it. He would have bet high stakes on Leonard Snart being a jealous man. 

“He tells me it's over. And he’s never given me any reason not to believe him,” Len shrugged. He didn’t say anything else and Joe suspected that’s because there wasn’t anything else to it. “Should I be worried?”

Joe would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been heartbroken when Iris and Barry called it off but could see that they were making the right choice for both of them. After having watched Barry be in love with Iris his whole life, even while exploring other options it came as a shock to suddenly know unequivocally it was over between them, could see it in the way they’d interacted. But Barry was the one he worried about. Iris thrived at adapting, constantly finding a way through, even in her deepest heartaches, she turned a pitfall into power. Barry, even though the most resilient person he ever met, he felt everything so deeply, took everything to heart. The fact that he was not only able to move on but to fall in love again so deeply, told Joe everything. Barry Allen didn’t do rebounds. This thing with Leonard Snart, this was the real deal. 

“The only thing you should be worried about is being a part of this family now,” Joe said, an olive branch he never thought he’d offer. “We’re loud, spend a lot of time together, and love hard.”

“I’ve met your son. I’m well aware,” Len chuckled before offering his own olive branch. “I’m looking forward to seeing where he gets it from.”

Their conversation was interrupted shortly after by a disheveled Iris coming out to tell her Barry was craving pizza. She said it with a big smile on her face as if she’d just cracked the DiVinci code. When Barry was able to pack one whole pepperoni, jalapeño, and olive pie by himself, they all looked at him he was the holy grail to which he blushed and begged them to stop fussing over them. Joe was surprised by how full his heartfelt with the group around the table, a group that now included Leonard Snart, as they ate and talked and laughed together. 

That night Joe spent significantly less time checking on his son before going to bed. He peered in through the gap of the cracked open bedroom door, relieved to not see Barry in distress. These past few days Joe had seen how Barry turned towards Len, finding comfort in his arms, while he had healed at S.T.A.R. Labs as well as their time in the house. But as he peered into Barry’s room, he saw Barry curled on his side, Len behind him close, Len’s chest pressed against Barry’s back. 

He heard Len make a slight noise, could see his face pinched in the small stream of light from street lamps cut through the blinds, the man clearly disturbed in slumber. But then he watched Barry reach behind him with one arm blindly, eyes still closed as he felt for Len’s arm, grabbing the wrist and pulling the arm to stretch across his own waist, hand interlocking with hand as he pulled it to his own chest. Len sighed and settled almost instantly, curling up closer to Barry, nuzzling his face in the back of Barry’s neck with a sigh. He saw his son smile slightly in his sleep before the sounds of soft snoring could be heard from both men. 

Joe smiled, shook his head fondly. His kid still had a lot of healing to do, would carry these new scars with him just like all the others. In a few days' time, his physical wounds would be all healed and he’d be suiting up and going out there as the Flash putting his life on the line again in no time. And Joe would go back to worrying about his safety. What he took comfort in was knowing that at least that when Barry left this house, his home, he was safe and sound in the arms of someone that loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Zero" by Darren Hayes


	18. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The light, it glitters  
> Your light, when I stand this close it’s almost blinding  
> Turn it up, give me some room to grow  
> Turn it up, give me the senses to know  
> I have been changed, I have become  
> I have flamed under the sun  
> I’m the reflection of you  
> For something ordinary  
> It’s so extraordinary  
> I trust, I put my faith in you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very light non-sexual bondage in this chapter

“Len, come on, you’re so slow,” Barry said in exasperation, taking hold of Len’s hand as they walked down the street. 

“Scarlet, I need you to know how ridiculous that sounds coming from you,” Len rolled his eyes. 

They were in a trendy residential area right on the border of Englewood and New Brighton and still had about an hour before their reservation to this Jamaican restaurant that had amazing reviews that Barry had found and was eager to take Len to. He only recently found out that Len’s mom was of Jamaican descent and was itching to explore that part of Len’s heritage. Len pretty much shared everything with him nine months into deep into their relationship but he only sparingly talked about his mother. He wasn’t keeping it from Barry, it just wasn’t something he found comfort talking about so freely like Barry did Nora Allen. They processed their grief differently. Barry didn’t push for more information, but any information he did get, the Flash ran with it. 

“Barry, my dear, for someone who runs around the city for a living you have a terrible sense of direction,” Len teased as they strolled further away from the mixed-use development he was sure the restaurant was located and instead turned onto a small side street with a cluster of four brownstone rowhouses before the road diverged into opposite directions, the road bookending a park with more row houses on the other side. 

“Well, I can’t argue with that but we’re almost there,” the eagerness in his voice did not go unnoticed by Len and when Barry stopped pulling him along suddenly, Len had to stop him himself from colliding with his boyfriend. 

They had stopped dead in front of one of the brownstones, the end of the row on the corner, emblematic of the high-style Victorian brownstone style, sharing only one wall, three stories. A ‘For Sale’ sign was affixed to the iron railing with its announcement diagonally obscured by a sticker with block red letters indicating it had been sold. It looked familiar, probably one of the hundreds of homes they’d looked at online in the past few months. 

He turned to Barry who beamed up at him as he pulled a set of keys from his bomber jacket pocket and smiled at him.

“Come on,” Barry pulled on the hand still clasped tightly in his and guided him up the stone staircase, stopping in front of a vibrant dark red door. Barry inserted the key and hovered his hand over the knob. But before turning it, he turned towards Len and grabbed the other hand, holding them both between them.

“If I asked you one day to just put this all behind us,” Barry’s voice was quiet, thumbs gently gliding across Len’s knuckles as he gripped his hands, “if one day I wanted to quit being the Flash, to just live a quiet life, would you go with me?”

“In a heartbeat,” Len didn’t even need to think about the question Barry asked. Captain Cold, thieving, this new security business, the Legends, even Central City, it meant nothing compared to what he held in his hands right now. Years ago late at night in the woods of Granite Peak National Park, not 10 miles from where they were standing now, Barry Allen asked him to find a new line of work, to play his game somewhere else. Leonard Snart scoffed, refused. But here they were again, standing in front of each other, this time Barry asking him to hypothetically change his entire life, and Len wouldn’t hesitate to do it. 

“A few months ago you asked me to move in with you, you tried to buy me a house. I’m sorry -“

“Do not apologize for what happened,” Len brought his hands up to frame Barry’s face. Barry sighed heavily, paused to regroup his thoughts because that’s exactly what he was about to apologize for, biting his lip before he continued. 

“I wanted this to be a surprise, for you. Having you by my side these last few months as I struggled to get through what happened, physically, mentally, emotionally, meant more to me than you could know,” Barry leaned into the touch, bringing his hands up behind Len, rubbing across the broad back. “I hesitated when it came to buying a house because even though I was certain about us, I couldn’t be certain about what I really wanted.”

“And now?” Len asked, not because he didn’t know, he just wanted to hear how Barry answered. 

“I want to continue to build a life with you,” Barry smiled at him before jerking his head towards the vibrant red door of the quaint brownstone, “Will you live this life with me?”

Len nodded, smiling back at him, leaning in for a sweet kiss. He’d said many times in his life that there were no strings on him. These past nine months proved him wrong. There was one single string, a thread. East Asian folklore described it as red, a thread of fate connecting two people, destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. He was bound to this man, even if it took the long way to get here, they somehow found their way to each other. 

Len couldn’t help but tease as they broke the kiss, “You gonna carry me over the threshold?” 

Barry giggled, grabbed his hand and guided him into the home. It was partially renovated, a lot of the heavy lifting done but still plenty of work to do themselves. It had all been in the process of being remodeled by the previous owners before deciding to move out and in doing so had inadvertently left it reminiscent of an industrial style. Brick and textured walls, exposed metal and steel, it was modern but historic and Barry wanted to embrace it. Barry toured him through the house, talking of his visions for each space; the lowest floor perfect for an office space for Len’s security consulting, enough light coming in from the egress windows in the partial basement level while still maintaining privacy. The parlor floor had a living room at the front with a custom window seat that Len could just picture Barry curling up with a book and a kitchen with a new steel balcony at the rear. The kitchen was long but narrow and Barry talked about how he wanted to tear down the wall separating it from another room to make one large space, exposed brick, and rich woods with a large community type dining table that could fit all of Team Flash or even all of the Legends. 

The wood period-staircase led to two floors but Barry insisted he’d show him after dinner and Len suspected he was up to something. But he played along because he couldn’t deny the joy it brought his lover. 

So they left, enjoyed the restaurant that had an Ital Stew that had all the warm flavors he remembered when he would help his grandfather prepare it as a child. As he shared a spoonful with Barry, watched the man close his eyes in pleasure, Len would be lying if it didn’t pull at his heart a little sharing a piece of his heritage he’d often ignored. It was that moment he decided he would try to revive some of his pleasant childhood memories of cooking family dishes with his grandfather by bringing into their new home. 

They had tried nearly everything on the menu, Len sampling and Barry devouring. They were able to meet the owner with a promise to return to what was sure to become a local spot for them, and walked along the town square in what was to be their neighborhood before heading back to the house. 

Len followed Barry up the steps, the first level above the parlor floor Barry had plans for two guest rooms, a large room that could be an office slash workout area, and a decent size bathroom. The top floor Barry had decided was for them. The master bedroom overlooked the street, sizable as it took up the two-thirds of the floor with a small terrace. The bathroom suite at the rear took up the rest of the level and Barry stopped them just outside the door, turned to Len, and held up a hand.

“One minute. Stay here,” he said with a kiss, leaving Len in their future bedroom to look around with a contemplative eye, mapped a potential layout of the room while Barry busied himself in the bathroom. 

Barry called out to him a few minutes later and Len entered the bathroom, taking in view of the space with the dimmed overhead lights, a dozen candles giving off a romantic glow. The grand bathroom was expansive, clearly one of the few finished projects of the previous owners as it had definitely been updated. It had almost a spa-like feel, calming grayscale tones on the tiles of the floor, painted cement walls. The far wall had a large walk-in shower, doorless and large enough for two. The sink and toilet to the left, to the right a modern freestanding stone tub filling with bubbles, a skylight placed for extra light and stargazing while soaking.

“So what do you think?” Barry asked as he stood in the middle of the bathroom, stark naked. 

Len looked him straight in the eyes and answered, “perfect.” The home, the romantic gesture, him, all of it.

Len waisted little time undressing, Barry entering the tub first before he climbed in, his back to Barry as the younger man wrapped his arms around Len’s chest and his legs on either side of his. 

“Good?”

“Oh yeah,” Len leaned his head back, resting on Barry’s shoulder. Retrieving a sponge from nearby, Barry started lazily washing Len’s body. 

Len got lost in the relaxation, the intimacy, savoring the feel of Barry behind him and suddenly he just started talking. He talked about his grandfather, his parents, his childhood. He told Barry of how when his mother wasn’t high, she would spend her days teaching Len how to cook. He was five when she left without a trace, unable to take her father anymore. They weren’t married so it was easy for her to disappear. 

“She wasn’t a perfect person but she deserved better than Lewis,” Len felt Barry lean forward so that his chin was resting on his shoulder.

“So did her son,” Barry added. Len didn’t say anything else. He didn’t like talking about his past, just wanted to concentrate on the here and now. And his future with the man he was enveloped in. 

He glanced down to Barry’s right knee beside him in the water, soft hands rubbing over the joint. Not a trace of the bullet wound, the reparative surgery, no physical reminder of the two weeks after it took for him to gain full usage. Just another patch of unblemished milky, soft skin. Then he moved his hands to the arms around him, looking down at the wrists as his thumb traced over the lines of raised flesh that had disappeared, no more evidence of the physical damage done by restraining ropes, even though the damage had been lasting.

It was only two months ago, they had spent four nights at Joes’s as Barry had healed before returning to the apartment. A twinge of regret had resounded through Len, the house he had picked for them now a house of horrors, afraid it had caused Barry to doubt moving out together. He didn’t want the man he loved to be afraid, to feel uncertain about where he was supposed to go next after what happened to him. But after two days in the apartment, Barry was completely healed and eager to get back out there as the Flash, to try to save people even though he himself still felt unsafe. Not with Len, not with Central City, but with his own fears. He’d had enough trauma in his life to expect unexpected triggers, but he couldn’t let that keep him from living his life. 

But one day Len had been in the kitchen of the apartment when there was a rush of wind and suddenly Barry was clinging to him. Len had to adjust himself to support the weight of Barry clinging to him.

“Len,” he gasped, suit on but cowl down. He was flush, breathing rapid and shallow. It took a lot of coaxing, of breathing deeply together, and a steaming cup of hot cocoa on the couch for Barry to calm down. He’d been fighting alongside Ralph against some bank robbers when one of them had managed to bolo Barry’s legs together. It would have been easy to phase out of them but Barry panicked, froze, struggled as he tried to free his legs with shaking hands. Elongated Man was able to knock them out and Barry barely stayed long enough for the cops to take over before running out of there. But now an hour later, panic attack subsided, freshly showered and changed into sweats, cocoa cups abandoned, they sat side by side on the couch.

“Barry, sometimes it takes a while to be okay,” Len was going for comforting but Barry could only filter it through his own insecurities and frustrations. 

“I’m fine. I can still do my job!” Barry fumed, agitated, pushing himself off the couch. 

“No ones saying you can’t, Scarlet,” Len said, still sitting, watching as Barry began to pace. “I didn’t mean-“

“I know, it's just...” Barry brought a hand to his head, clenching his eyes tightly as he turned away from Len. “I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. It’s just-fuck!” Barry grabbed the sides of his head, doubling over. Len wanted to grab him and hold him but was afraid of sending the young man into a panic at any sudden movement. Instead, he held out a hand and waited. 

Barry finally dropped his hands and turned to face Len again on the couch. He took the extended hand and allowed Len to guide him till they were stretched out on the couch, Barry seated back against Len, arms loosely wrapped around him.

“I don’t want to develop a fear of being trapped,” Barry sighed, leaning back against Len. “I was powerless. I couldn’t get free, I couldn’t yell at him or for help. I don’t want to keep going back there in my mind.”

“Tell me what you need,” Len whispered, nuzzling his face into the side of Barry’s head, seeking comfort in the softness of Barry’s hair, the smell his shampoo, the warmth of his body, desperate to find a way to bring comfort to him. 

Barry didn’t have answers for him that night, he just let Len hold him loosely as he cried, and they fell asleep on the couch. The next day Barry asked Len to go to therapy with him and Len didn’t hesitate because even though he had reservations about shrinks, his lover was telling him what he needed. So they went to Dr. Finkel who helped them by suggesting replacing those moments of fear of being trapped with moments where he felt undeniably safe and loved. 

So they had started small, sitting on the couch, Len’s muscular arm wrapped around Barry’s lean waist to pin both of his arms to his sides. He let him get used to being physically restrained, calming his breathing, reminding himself he was safe in Len’s arms, there was no danger here. Then Len’s free hand came up to tilt his chin, kissing him gently on the side of his mouth before laying his palm over his lips, lighting putting pressure on them to keep them shut. It reminded Barry of a time that felt so long ago, bleeding out in a bank, hiding from five armed assailants, Len’s holding him tight, hand clamped over his mouth to keep him quiet, to keep them safe. Barry felt his heart racing but with a sigh, let his head fall back so it rested on Len’s chest, eyes fluttering shut as he focused on Len’s hands, arms, soft lips pressed to his temple, quiet whispered words of Barry being safe, loved, home.

After that, they tried actual restraints, Len not sure but Barry begging him. 

“Please, Len, we’ll go easy,” he’d pleaded. They loved mixing bondage in their sexual activities and Barry didn’t want to freak out on him if they tried it. So they agreed to a soft medium, no sex. 

So Barry sat on the couch, clad only in boxers when Len joined him with an assortment of scarves. Sitting next to his boyfriend, he began laying them out on the cushions in a neat line. Barry looked on with increasing anticipation, trying to quell the rising anxiety of he knew what was coming. Len was going to tie him up, hold him. He was going to be safe, there was nothing to be afraid of. 

“Hands in front,” Len said softly, picking up a purple scarf as Barry obliged, crossing his wrists in front of him, a sharp intake of breath when they were bound together with the soft fabric. Len gripped the bound wrists in between both hands and his head snapped up to look at Barry.

“I’m okay,” Barry reassured him, leaning forward to give him a quick delicate kiss to Len’s lips, answering the silent but questioning gaze. “It’s not too tight. Thank you for doing this.”

Len went back to work, slowly, gently, lovingly tying Barry’s bare ankles, knees, grabbing a longer one made of yellow silk to wrap around Barry’s upper arms just above the elbows, pinning them to his sides. 

Len checked with him along the way, making sure it wasn’t too much, that he felt okay, that he felt safe. Barry would smile and nod, or ask him to wait as he got used to another restriction. But as they Len checked in with him now that he was done binding him, Len was taken by surprise at what was said next.

“Gag me, please,” Barry whispered, eyes brimming with tears. He needed this, he needed Len to do this with him. 

Len hesitated only long enough to surge forward and kissed him again, their lips slightly parted, trembling with nervousness until Barry’s tongue tentatively moved between Len’s lips, encouraging. When Len pulled away he brought the soft fabric up Barry’s already parted lips and gently tied it into a cleave gag. Barry nodded when Len picked up another scarf, tying it over his mouth to cover the first one. 

“You good?” Len asked, hands cupping Barry’s face, lightly tracing the soft fabric with his thumbs. Barry chewed lightly on the thick scarf between his lips, pulled against the scarves binding him, and realized he was good. He focused on Len’s eyes, the warmth of his hands against his face, the closeness as he sat beside him and he felt safe. 

When he nodded, Len leaned in to kiss him on the forehead, the temple, and once on his gagged lips. He situated himself on the couch, pulling Barry to rest back against him, head leaning against his chest. He felt good, secure. Every once in awhile Barry would wriggle a bit, prompting Len to hold him tighter, pepper kisses along Barry’s temple and jawline, and Barry felt so safe and secure, that he fell asleep like that.

The anxiety was still there, but when Barry went out there as the Flash, he wasn’t afraid of doing his job. He’d been victimized, but he wasn’t a victim. He felt isolated when taken by Mardon, but he made it home. He was saved, he could keep saving other people. 

They did the work, individually and together, to heal the wounds. And now here they were two months later, Len wrapped in Barry’s arms, Len marveling at the scars that he knew were there but didn’t show a single shred of evidence because Barry’s skin repaired itself and Barry’s heart and mind were even more resilient. He survived, just like every other close call that tried to take Barry away from him, during and before they even got to where they were now. But again, that was the past and Len wanted to concentrate on here, now. Their future.

“I found my resiliency growing up the way I did. I found my strength in my ambition to be the best thief in Central City. I found courage when you challenged me to be better and found purpose when I joined the Legends. But finding love with you, I found meaning,” Len finally spoke up, runnings his hands up and down Barry’s arms around him beneath the soapy water. “Scarlet, earlier you asked me a hypothetical question,”

Barry ‘mhmmm-d’, kissing the side of Len’s neck as he dipped the sponge underneath the water, scooping up some bubbles before continuing to massage Len’s upper body with the sponge.

“You’ve done a lot to make an honest man out of me,” Len continued and suddenly he could feel Barry still behind him, the sponge hovering now over his shoulder. “I hope one day we can take that a step further.”

It wasn’t a proposal. More like a proposal of the future notion of a proposal. Elusive and coy in true Leonard Snart fashion but sentimental like the man he’d become. He never considered himself a man who would ever consider marriage. But then again he had never imagined being in love the way he was. A few things happened though, in the past few months, that put the idea in his head, a big one was almost losing Barry. What if Joe hadn’t been there to tell the EMTs he was his partner, the idea of having no rights, to be with him if he was sick or hurt. He couldn’t put all his bets on Joe being there to vouch for him, for S.T.A.R. Labs being there allowing him to sit by his bedside, for any cop outside of CCPD to defend him since he was dating their golden boy, for the world to acknowledge his right to be by Barry’s side when they and everyone else wouldn’t hesitate to judge whether or not he earned that right. 

But the biggest was that he knew he’d never been happier in his life than he was with Barry Allen. He knew that he didn’t need to marry him to keep that, that a piece of paper and a shiny ring wasn’t going to change that for them. But his father never married his mother, never loved her, and Len didn’t ever want Barry to feel that way, especially since he was a young man who believed in the power of love more than any person who lived in the real world had the right to. Even though Barry had never made mention of them getting married, the fact that he kept the symbols of his time as Iris West’s husband, cherished the mementos, told Len that Barry believed in the power of marriage. It wasn’t that Len would be doing something against his nature by becoming a husband, it was just that his nature had evolved. And it had a lot to do with the man who he’d just pseudo-proposed to. 

With a small spark of lightning, suddenly Len had his back against the bathtub instead and Barry was in front climbing over him, a knee on each side of Len’s hips. Len stroked his hands down Barry’s sides as the man leaned down to kiss him, deep, loving, hungry. Len wrapped his arms around Barry’s waist, giving a small tug and pulling Barry further onto his lap, the water splashing around them and Barry smiled against his lips with a happy little ‘mmmm’. Just as Len started to tilt his head to deepen the kiss, Barry pulled away leaving Len to chase his lips.

“I’m leaving it in your hands if you ever want to take that step. I don’t need a ring or a wedding but know I would say yes if you ever did actually ask me,” Barry said, dripping hands resting on the sides of Len’s neck. He understood what Barry was saying to him. Leonard Snart didn’t like surprises, he didn’t like strings. He liked making the plan, even when the plan went off the rails. He knew the only reason Barry felt okay with surprising him with the house tonight was because Len had tried to do the same, had made it perfectly clear that where they lived meant very little to him. The house was about Barry, Len didn’t care if it was here, the apartment, or a small cot on a TimeShip, as long as Barry was there. “This, you, me, this is everything. However we live this life, as long as it’s together, is enough.”

He had Len, a new chapter in a new home, he didn’t need to be married again to feel like it was forever. He knew by the way Len looked at him, held him, kissed him. He was happy. Barry didn’t need more.

Len didn’t tell him that he deserved more even though he wanted to. He didn’t tell him that he had already bought a set of bands, a gold with carved silver inlay for Barry and a silver with a carved gold inlay for himself, reflections of each other, different but a perfect set. He didn’t tell him they were tucked away in a hidden pocket in his parka, waiting for the right moment. He didn’t tell him that he’d known since the night he grabbed Barry by the arm and kissed him in the park that he’d found what he’d been searching for, that he’d been changed forever, that he was addicted to Barry’s light.

He didn’t say anything else. He just leaned in and captured Barry’s lips, lacing the fingers of one hand in Barry’s short, wet hair while the other hand dipped under the water to nestle at the small of Barry’s back. Nothing felt as extraordinary as the most ordinary of things with his love, dinner, a quiet night at home, the taste of his lips. If this was that ever after that everyone was always seeking, Len understood the appeal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Light" by Darren Hayes


	19. Insatiable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Breathe in breathe out, there is no sound  
> We move together up and down  
> We levitate, our bodies soar  
> Our feet don’t even touch the floor  
> But nobody knows you like I do   
> Cause the world, they don’t understand  
> But I grow stronger in your hands  
> Turn the lights down low  
> Take it off, let me show  
> My love for you, insatiable  
> Turn me on, never stop  
> Wanna taste every drop  
> My love for you, insatiable"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the last few chapters were emotionally heavy...here's some PWP w/ bondage to add some fun and spice before we wrap up the story ;) also guest appearances by a couple of Legends!!

“Snart!” Ray greeted, barely letting the door slide fully open as he entered the Library, a room often unused since the departure of Rip but sometimes provided a quiet place for a Legend to get away from the rest of the team for a bit. Len was seated behind the desk, his hands clasped upon the desktop. As Ray approached he noticed an odd look about his former teammate, one unidentifiable, a mixture of expressions blending together on his face.

“Are you alright?” Ray asked hesitantly.

“Peachy,” Len smiled tightly. “A little…distracted is all.”

“Ah. Hey, so I was looking for Barry. Wanted some advice on my suit. Have you seen him?” Ray asked, his usual chipper not in the least bit amusing to Len. They had met up with the Legends a few days ago, needing Len’s skills to break into a nearly impenetrable fortress to save some relic or other that would preserve the time the timeline or something like that. Len hadn’t really been paying attention. His job was to steal, he didn’t care why. Barry had tagged along, eager to see Len work as part of the Legends, claiming this was the closest thing to a vacation they’d get.

“No. Check the galley. The speedster has quite the appetite,” A tight smile flashed across his face, less than sincere.

“Okay then. Don’t work too hard,” Ray waved as he turned to leave.

“Learn to knock, Raymond,” Len called after him, the door sliding shut automatically. Len sighed in relief. He pushed himself away from the desk and looked down in between his legs, beneath the desk, where Barry kneeled.

“That was close,” Len said. Barry looked up at him and nodded silently. 

Just moments before Ray had come into the Library, Len was describing to Barry, in a lewd sort of way, what he wanted to do with him in various locations aboard the Waverider while visiting. Barry had responded with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive ‘why wait.'

It was at that point Barry immediately began unbuttoning his shirt while Len began unfastening his pants. Before Barry could do anything else, Len yanked the unbuttoned shirt down off of Barry’s arms and without missing a beat, spun him around. Before Barry could register what happened, Len yanked his arms behind him and snapped a pair of meta cuffs around his wrists. 

“Len!” Barry yelped as Len spun him around to face him again and pressed their lips tightly together. They’d shared a lot of fantasies with each other, communicating at length what they desired, what was off-limits, what was on the table, just how far they wanted go. They’d played with everything from scarves to leather belts, blindfolds to gags but they’d never used powers dampening cuffs before and Barry could feel his cock swell at the thought and thrill of being powerless in Len’s hands. It took them a long time to get back to bondage play after the ordeal with Mardon, but Barry never felt safer in his life than in Len’s hands, and now he was back to feeling that again when Len restrained him. 

As Barry softly moaned into the kiss, Len pressed his lips harder to his, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Len pulled Barry close, grabbing his tight, firm ass and grinding his crotch against his as their tongues danced and darted about for a few long moments.

When Len pulled away, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean scarf. He may be the furthest thing from a boy-scout but knew when to be prepared. He folded the silk into a long narrow band and one knot on top of another was tied in the middle until it looked like a cloth ball gag.

“Len maybe we should at least lock the do-mmm, mmmph!" the knot was pushed into his mouth. Len prodded until it was behind his teeth and knotted the scarf behind his head. Then, holding his cheeks with both hands, Len gently kissed Barry on top of the head.

“Now for some fun,” Len said softly. Not a second after he uttered the words, he heard footsteps from the hallway outside heading their way. “Fuck!” he grabbed Barry by the elbow and helped him to kneel underneath the desk and quickly plopped himself down to make himself look busy, opening the nearest book.

And now here they were, Len hard with the anticipation and Barry bound and gagged at his feet. He reached down and hooked his finger around the gag and pulled it down from Barry’s lips.

“Ok, you were right about locking the door. Sorry, Scarlet,” Len apologized. This wasn’t what he had in mind when he initiated their playtime.

“Are you nuts? This sneaking around... it's hot!” Barry smiled impishly, his eyes darting from up at Len’s face to his crotch in front of his own.

“Really?” Len smirked, reaching for his fly. “Well since your down there…” He pulled his dick free from his pants, presenting it to Barry just a scant few inches from his lips. Barry’s smile widened. With his hands bound behind him, it required more skill, but he was up for the challenge. 

He immediately took Len in his mouth and began to rhythmically move back and forth. It was more than clear that Barry knew exactly how to get Len off with just his mouth and Len knew he prided himself on that. Len’s hips snapped forward lazily as Barry kept the right pressure and Len’s moans filled the room. He quickly began to speed up. grabbing the back of Barry’s head and began to assist with his movements.  
“Leonard!” Sara burst through the sliding doors.

“Sara!” Len yelped in surprise. That and Barry just swallowed him to the root. He quickly rested one arm atop the desk. But Barry kept sucking his cock. Len threaded his fingers through Barry’s hair, his hand clamped at the back of his head, hindering Barry from moving off his dick. Barry tried to jerk his head away but Len’s grip was like a vice, the pressure of the hand at the back of his head forcing Len’s cock to stay down his throat.

“Mmmph.”

“Uh-hmmmm,” Len cleared his throat loudly, trying to hide Barry’s moan. “You startled me.”

“Sorry. I was just wondering if you were interested in going out? We figured while in the ’70s might as well party like it, ” the young woman spoke nonchalantly, oblivious to the deep-throating going on just a few feet away from her.

“Go ahead. Barry and I have plans for the evening,” Len spoke quickly.

“If you're sure then…”

“Hundred percent.” Len shooed her with his free hand, trying not to sound desperate.

“Alright, just make sure you clean up after yourselves, ” Sara responded and Len tried to keep the poker face. Just as she was about to leave, she turned to face Len and called out “Bye Barry.” And with a wink at Len, the doors closed behind her. 

With the one hand, Len hit a button on the desk and finally triggered the door lock. He kept his other hand still clamped at the back of Barry‘s head, forcing the bound man‘s head still, biting back pleasure moans as Barry sucked. 

“Mmmmph.”

Barry cast his eyes to look up at Len. Len smiled at him and shifted for deeper access and started to fuck Barry's mouth, hitting the back of his throat on each forward thrust. Barry swallowed as he felt his partner's body tense, humming in the back of his throat. 

Len felt the vibration throughout his body and he exploded, sending his seed shooting down Barry's throat. Len’s mouth dropped open, his head falling back as he moaned, grinded against Barry’s face as he rode his orgasm to completion. Len continued to thrust through the aftershocks as Barry ran his tongue around his softening shaft, Len’s cum filling his mouth.

He pulled out and Barry panted for air, licking his lips. Len was fast and quickly grabbed the cloth around Barry’s neck and pulled it up and lodged it between his teeth, re-tying it tightly at his neck. 

“Mmmmmph!!” Barry protested, not at being gagged but because he wanted more.

“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet.” Len grabbed Barry by the upper arms and hauled him onto his feet. He grabbed Barry by the chin, forcing his head back and leaned in just close enough to kiss him but didn’t make contact. He held his face right there and stared into his eyes as his hand traced down his body. 

Barry gasped as Len slid his hand down his waistband and took his stiff prick in his grip. It was slick with pre-cum, and Len ran his fingers snugly up and down its stiff length. 

“I don’t think I need to tell you what having you like this does to me. Powerless and at my mercy,” Len all but purred. “What would Central City say to see their savior melting in the hands of Captain Cold?”

Barry’s sharp intake of breath and gagged moan of pleasure encouraged Len. He jerked his lover’s cock again, and then again, and then he felt it swell and fight his grasp, and then his thick gism was pumping up and out in a violent arc from its red tip. Barry jerked and spasmed in Len‘s arms, and a strangled, muffled cry of pain and joy wrenched through his gag. 

"Mmm-mmmph!!" 

Len didn't stop rubbing his stiff prick. He slowed his strokes, and loosened the tight ring of his fingers, but kept on rubbing. He pumped out a few more spurts of thick cum and Barry jerked and moaned into his gag, spent. Len planted a soft kiss upon Barry’s gagged lips and let go of his chin and cock. He then reached up and pulled the gag down from around Barry's mouth, letting it hang at his neck.

Barry immediately leaned up and crushed his lips against Len's. They kissed long and hard, desperate even. Len wrapped an arm around Barry’s waist and the other at the back of his head, his fingers threading his hair as his tongue curled around Barry’s and pulled it into his mouth so that he could suck on it. Moaning softly, Barry nudged his knee up against Len's groin, unable to wrap his arms around him with them still cuffed behind his back, eliciting a moan from Len as they broke the kiss.

“God, please fuck me, Len,” Barry murmured. Barry barely finished his plea before Len pulled the gag back up, forcing it between Barry's teeth.

Len backed them up against the desk, spun Barry around, and forced him face down over the desk, his body sprawled atop papers, books and star maps. Len kicked his legs spread open, keeping them in place with his own. He pulled Barry’s jeans down over his ass, followed then by his own pants.

Len bent over him and reached down to slowly massage Barry's balls as he ghosted his breath across his lover's neck, flicking his tongue into Barry's ear. Barry jerked at the stimulation and whined deep in his chest.

Len ran his hands down Barry's back and across his ass, feeling smooth skin under his palm before sliding a finger in his hole, feeling the muscle clamp down on him. 

"Mmmph! Mmmmm."

Encouraged by the sounds coming from beneath him, Len pushed in another as Barry grunted and pushed back. Len pushed a third finger in stroking across Barry's prostate as he reached down and ran his fingers across Barry's cock. Unable to wait any longer, Len withdrew his fingers and grabbed his own dick, lining it up with Barry's hole until the head of his cock breached the ring of muscle. He pushed forward steadily till he was completely buried in Barry's body.  
Len stroked Barry’s dick, just staying inside his ass without moving until Barry was gasping for breath and pushing back, begging for Len to move. Len started to pound in and out of Barry’s body. He was so close to losing it all he could feel was the throb of his pulse in his dick throughout his body and began to fist his bound lover’s cock as he continued to pound into his ass.

Barry had started to shake as soon as Len started the glide of his fist up the hard column of his cock and when Len bit down on his neck he came with a hoarse shout as his body clamped down on Len’s dick. Barry erupted in his lover's hand with a yell that was smothered by the cloth in his mouth. Len was buried deep inside as he continued to ride Barry, pushing in twice more as Barry's orgasm sent him over the precipice into his own release, coming deep inside his lover's body with a shout as he rode out the aftershocks. 

Barry panted and whimpered into his gag as Len lay soft kisses on his bare back as he draped on top of his bound lover, composing himself. After a few moments of rest, Len unlocked the cuffs from around Barry's wrists and helped Barry roll over onto his back, leaning over him.

Len's hands trailed down Barry's face gently before untying the gag and tossing it aside. 

"Well that was fun," Barry whispered, still recovering as he smiled softly.

"God, I fuckin' love you." Len bent to kiss him, just a soft brush across the lips.  
"You too,” Barry said around a sigh. “So what kind of plans did you have for the rest of the night cuz Sara’s plan sounded like fun.”

“We’ll party with them tomorrow. Tonight, we explore the Waverider, a massive ship with lots of surfaces I’d like to bend you over and tie you down to,” Len smirked. “Maybe play out a few of those fantasies we talked about-“ 

Before Len could say anything else, Barry grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss, lifting his hips up to push against Len's.  
“I knew this was going to be a great vacation,” Barry smiled against his lips only far enough to talk. “Don’t forget the cuffs.”

___________________________________________

There was no sound on the entire bridge but heavy breathing. Deep lungfuls and sighs from Barry’s mouth, long inhales and exhales from Len’s nose. The air felt thick and hot, even in the large, cold room. There was no rhythm, no technique. When he and Barry made love he always saw it as sensual, beautiful, hot. But this, this was messy and haphazard, so much like their first time together.

They were alone on the Waverider but for how long they didn’t know, and here they were both standing stark naked in the middle of the bridge. Barry pressed against Len, trapping him with his soft body against the center console, his wrists handcuffed in front this time with the meta cuffs, his arms draped over Len’s shoulders and resting behind Len’s neck. He could feel the warm breath on his neck just before Len kissed him there. Len could feel Barry’s pulse hammering in his throat, his hands slid down his body to settle on his hips briefly, then lower to cup his firm ass.

Possessively Len fondled him, pulling him closer. Len could feel Barry’s rigid length pressing into his abdomen, could feel a smile in his kiss as he found his soft warm lips with his own. Barry’s thigh slipped between Len’s, and he gently pressed up into him. They both groaned, the kiss becoming harder and more intense. Barry had to strain to hold himself rigid, letting him control his actions, wanting to do everything he told him to do. This was Len’s fantasy, he was the one into public sex where it made Barry blush throughout his entire body, his nerves shaking him to his core almost as deeply as the arousal.

Len pulled away suddenly and Barry yelped shifting his cuffed wrists to try to gain some purchase as Len bent and lifted Barry onto the top of the console. Barry automatically spread his legs to allow Len easy access. Len's hands went around his waist and pulled him close, trying to kiss Barry on the mouth but Barry leaned back on the console and undulated his body, encouraging Len to kiss him elsewhere. Len traced a line down his chest as Barry’s bound hands played with the buzzed hair at the back of his skull. Barry closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation, letting small moans and gasps escape him each time his lover reached one of the sensitive spots with his lips that drove him wild with desire, but Len moved on before it got that far, making Barry whimper with disappointment and buck in a desperate try to prolong the touch.

Suddenly lips closed around his erection. Barry bucked up slightly, having not expected the action but Len forcefully pressed him down again, forcing him to be still. Len dived in and started to devour Barry's cock with his mouth. Barry gasped and moaned, not able to do anything but hold on for dear life as Len expertly sucked and licked the hard shaft until it started to leak when Len pulled back suddenly and then he lifted his head to look at Barry, a knowing grin on his face.

He pushed Barry a little further back along the top of the metal surface and, to the younger man's surprise, got up on the console with him. He crawled up along Barry's body until he could bend down and capture the younger man's mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue slipped in between eagerly parting lips and he took his time to do some slow, thorough exploring. Barry sighed under him and arched into his touch when Len started to run his hand up and down his lover's torso, enjoying the feeling of warm flesh, strong muscles, and the hard ridges that marked the ribs. Len lifted his head to look down at Barry again, taking in the swollen lips and the darkened, hooded, lust-filled eyes. The younger man was breathing heavily now and Len himself noticed that his breath had deepened considerably.

"Hi," Barry said as Len lay down on top of him.

"Hi," Len replied. He put a hand on the side of Barry's face, caressing his cheek slowly with his thumb before diving back in for another kiss. Their tongues slipped and slid against each other, battling while low moans and groans escaped their throats, sending electric jolts down to their hardening cocks.

Barry wrapped his legs around Len's waist as the older man pushed slowly into his body. When Len started thrusting, the movements' small but going deep, Barry automatically tried to arch his back in pleasure but Len's weight kept him pinned down. So he settled for arching his neck. He felt Len start to suckle his neck and he knew was going to have a hickey for as long as these cuffs stayed on him. The idea of being marked by Len, having it last, sent a surge of arousal to his cock so he shifted his bound hands to Len's head to hold him there. He thrust his pelvis up as much as he could, matching Len's increasing tempo, his erection trapped between their bodies and it took all of Barry's will power to prevent himself from coming too soon. He didn't give the younger man any time to adjust and started up a frantic pace, pounding into Barry harder and faster with each thrust. Barry threw his head back and shouted in pleasure as his pace became rougher, more frantic. With a shout, Len pushed himself deep inside Barry and stilled, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin of Barry's neck as he came. The slight pain pushed Barry over the edge and he gasped Len's name as his seed spilled out of him.

Time seemed to stop for them and it felt like an eternity had passed when the last waves of pleasure washed over them, leaving them spent and shaking. Len collapsed into a boneless heap on top of Barry. They lay like that for quite some time while they basked in the afterglow, panting and unmoving until Len forced himself to pull out. He reached up to move Barry’s arms up from over his head, clasping the forearms, but Barry hooked his ankles around the other man’s legs and tugged on Len’s neck with his cuffed hands, preventing him from moving off him. 

“Anyone can come back any minute,” Len mumbled, still panting. 

“Not yet,” Barry replied, breathy, eyes blinking long. 

"I love you", Len mumbled and planted a kiss on Barry's neck. Barry smiled and moved to intercept the attention to his neck to capture Len’s lips. He kissed him slowly, lazily.

"Love you, too, Len,” he whispered against Len’s lush, kiss-swollen lips. “Best vacation ever, by the way.”

“It’s not over yet,” Len lifted a brow but before he could suggest the next section of the Waverider they could debauch they were interrupted. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy the private show, but it’s about become a little less private Mr. Snart,” Gideon said suddenly and Len could feel the heat instantly as Barry’s entire body blushed. “You have about five minutes before the entire team arrives on the bridge.”

And like a cold shower, Barry was yelling at him for the cuff keys, Len scrambling to get them free. With a minute real time to spare, the cuffs unlocked and Barry used his superspeed to clean up the bridge and rush them to Len’s quarters. Len knew he probably shouldn’t have laughed because it ended with him cuffed to the bed while Barry had his way with him. It didn’t really translate well to punishment for finding it so damn funny, but it turned out Barry was very good at slow when he wanted to be, a delicious kind of torture for Len. 

Definitely the best vacation ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Insatiable" by Darren Hayes


	20. I Can’t Ever Get Enough of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now I know that in the past I’ve been much too keen  
> But your eyes are the kindest that I’ve ever seen  
> I guess there are some things you just know  
> There’s a voice inside telling me to hold on  
> And never let you go  
> There’s a tune that plays, it’s a sacred sound  
> It’s a symphony I hear whenever you’re around  
> Now my world is filled  
> With a whisper of love and a promise of tomorrow   
> Now my world is filled with so many things  
> But nothing compares to the touch of your skin  
> There’s a symphony and a melody that pays whenever you’re around  
> I think I’ve been found "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end...thank you for reading.

Smiling, Barry couldn’t help but give a big swing of their connected hands forwards as they walked. He heard the low chuckle from Len beside him as he swung their arms just as big backward as they walked hand in hand towards the Cortex. Barry didn’t see Len glance down, Barry’s left hand clasped in his right. He loved how their fingers fit between each other, how his skin felt on his skin, how beautiful his hand would look adorned in something specially picked out just for him. 

“Stop,” Len chuckled again when Barry gave another big swing, but when Barry just smiled at him Len couldn’t stop himself from using the momentum to twist Barry’s body back against the wall, pressing against him, their hands still interlocked, trapping him with his own body. Barry giggled as Len’s free hand braced against the wall beside his head as Barry’s moved to settle on Len’s hip, pulling him closer as he leaned forward. Len could feel the smile in his kiss as he found his soft warm lips with his own. 

It was soft, unhurried, Barry’s tongue diving shallowly to meet Len’s. His tongue slid over his as Len pushed himself closer against him, Barry pressed between his body and the wall. There were no thoughts, mind lost in a love induced haze, just so absolutely engrossed in each other. Len moved his hand from the wall to curve his palm over Barry’s cheek, a caressing thumb over the contour of his cheekbone while Barry nipped at his mouth. They melted into each other, the kiss longing, infused with every ounce of love they had. If they could stay in this moment forever they would. 

Len could feel Barry’s incredible heat even through the T-shirt and burgundy bomber jacket. Barry's hand dipped from Len’s waist to tease the curve of his ass but his thought of ducking into the time vault for a quickie as Len’s thigh slipped between his fleeted as a voice from a little down the hall called out. 

“You know we can hear you out there right?” Cisco called from inside the Cortex. Len laughed and Barry groaned as they broke the kiss, Barry leaning his head forward to rest on Len’s shoulder.

“Remember when I asked you to run away with me?” Barry’s voice was muffled against Len’s shoulder. 

“Not today, hero,” Len chuckled before dipping his head to settle his lips over the fluttering pulse of Barry’s neck and sucking until he marked him. Realizing what Len had done, Barry pushed him away with a laugh, calling him a bastard. Len smiled at him. The hickey wouldn’t last more than a few minutes, but it would last long enough till they got to the Cortex. 

Barry pulled at the collar of his jacket, trying to cover the mark before realizing it was useless. He sighed, rolled his eyes, but all frustration went away when Len grabbed his hand and walked alongside him as they joined the rest of the team. 

“Afternoon Caitlin, Ramon,” Len greeted, a self-satisfied smirk. “Iris.” He leaned in for a kiss on the cheek as she came to greet them. Over the past six months, since working alongside them to get Barry back from Mardon’s, to waiting for him to awaken, to watching him as he healed, he’d developed a bond with Barry’s team, his friends and family. He didn’t shy away from hanging out with them at the Labs or encouraging Barry to invite them over their home or to go out with them. They were a part of his life now, and he theirs, and Barry felt whole having them all interconnected. 

Len had gotten very close with Iris especially, even doing his own version of a background check on a guy she’d begun seeing casually. He let go of Barry’s hand to let his lover envelop his best friend in a hug. She’d just gotten back from following a story in Gotham and the two were eager to reunite. She gave Len a wink over Barry's shoulder as he let them have a moment alone, moving across the room to where Caitlin was smiling at him while Cisco was glaring.

“You know I’m a hundred percent on board with this,” Cisco said, motioning with his hand between Len in front of him and Barry across the room. Len cocked an eyebrow at him while he moved to lean across the front of the main console. Cisco rolled his eyes. He almost missed the days when he instilled fear in the young scientist but as he heard Barry’s laughter echo in the lab, he was reminded this was better. “But you’re supposed to be the Captain of Cold, the greatest, sneakiest thief in Central City. I kinda expected your PDA to be a little less...”

“Steamy?” Len drawled. 

“Noisy,” Cisco tilted his head with a squint. “I love Barry like a brother, a brother who doesn’t ever want to hear his moans of pleasure.”

“Oh please, I can do much better than what you heard in the hall,” Len smirked and Cisco mock gagged, a blush and giggle from Caitlin, and Len was satisfied with their responses. Maybe he didn’t instill fear like he used to, but if this is what it meant to have family, then he was glad to trade it. 

“So are you really going to do it tonight?” Caitlin whispered, leaning across the console closer to Len. The man reached into his inner coat jacket and pulled out the small velvet bag that held the bands he’d chosen.

The truth was Iris had actually returned yesterday. Len had asked to meet with her and Joe, seeking their blessing to ask Barry to marry him. It wasn’t permission, Len didn’t believe in that antiquated notion, but he did want to show them the courtesy of requesting to be a permanent fixture in their lives. Almost two decades ago they took a young Barry into their lives, created a family; Len felt it only right to ask to be a part of that something special they built together. He knew where Iris and Joe stood on their relationship. Iris had been supportive from the start, had quickly become one of Len’s favorite people. He had a love for her like Sara Lance, someone he admired for her fierceness, her femininity, her strength, and compassion. Joe had been accepting ever since they rescued Barry from Mardon and then embraced their dynamic immediately after just witnessing the love between them. But marrying this young man they all loved so much, Len thought it might be expecting more acceptance than they were willing to give. Joe and Iris, however, disagreed, and barely let him finish the sentiment before they embraced him, literally. 

An hour later, Len had met Caitlin and Cisco at S.T.A.R. Labs while Barry was at CCPD. He poured it all out, apologized for what he’d done to each of them in the past, thanked them for their understanding in this past year, and they both had brushed him off saying it was all water under the bridge, neither giving him a chance to further explain before bombarding him, Caitlin asking him to see the rings and Cisco nagging him about how grand of a gesture he was thinking because he ‘had a few ideas’.

The truth was, Len had thought of a dozen grand gestures but all felt wrong somehow. It wasn’t them. Their lives were big, their masked personas larger then life, but Barry and Len were simple. Their love was effortless, their dynamic easy. It all came down to love, to feeling at home. So tonight at Joe’s during movie night was where it would happen, in a moment relaxed and surrounded by everyone Barry loved that was still with them.

Suddenly the alarms went off, the screens came alive, indicating a police chase on the freeway. With a quick gust of air, Barry was in his uniform pulling up his cowl. 

“Why don’t you guys head over to Joe’s. I’ll meet you there,” Barry offered as he approached the console. 

Len grabbed the front of the uniform and pulled him in for a kiss, a long inhale as he crushed his lips against Barry's.

“For luck,” he murmured with a smile against his lips before pushing Barry away. “Now get going, Scarlet.” Barry yelped as Len smacked his ass but he smiled at him, the glint in his eyes as impish as it was genuine. Len thought he was going to call him a bastard again, maybe blush in embarrassment for the display in front of his friends. 

But time slowed down suddenly as, with a gentle tug, Barry grabbed the front of Len's shirt, pulling him in for another kiss. Lightning surrounded them, the world stilling and the rest of the team frozen as Barry pulled him into the speed force aura. They might as well be alone, the only two people in the world, because even without being in Flashtime, Len felt that way every time he looked into those green eyes. 

It was just a soft, gentle glide of lips meeting and it felt like the world had stopped moving all over again, suspended in time with their lips connected. And then Len could feel that delicious spark as Barry pulled away. 

Barry smiled at him, his eyes shining, saying everything they both felt, and then just as quickly he was gone. Len watched as the trail of lightning disappeared after him but kept his gaze on where Barry had just been. He wondered if he had any idea about Len’s plans tonight if he’d snuck around and caught sight of the rings. He didn’t know. 

Their lives were defined by not knowing, taking the hits as they came, and embracing the wins they were blessed with, evolving as they moved forward. In their past, they didn’t know when they’d first stared each other down on that train that they’d spend every night being the last thing the other saw before closing their eyes. They didn’t know that their elaborate lives would one day lead them to each other, living a simple kind of life in the middle of the extraordinary. They could never have guessed in the past how it would lead them to this kind of present.

Len didn’t know just exactly how he would propose tonight, not until they were in the middle of the movie when Barry was curled up against him, hands entwined when Len slid the ring on his left finger. He didn’t know that Barry would look down and then meet his gaze with tears in his eyes and kiss him so hard in front of his family. He didn’t know it would be one of the happiest moments he’d ever felt in his whole life when with a smiled whisper against his lips, Barry would say ‘yes’. The only thing he knew about their present was he ready to start his future with this man.

It was a future where they didn’t yet know that the news article from the time vault had changed, that Barry wouldn’t disappear in the crisis a few years from now because Captain Cold wasn’t originally there to fight alongside them. They didn’t know that in the near future the name Leonard Snart would be a name that became synonymous with security and safety in Central City and Keystone, to the point where a few friends in high places encouraged him to run for Mayor. They didn’t know that in a couple of years they’d foster a pair of young twins, a boy and girl, who were saved by the Flash but lost their parents, only to end up adopting them not soon after.

But that was all to come, there ever after was only just beginning. What they did know was that in this life, this timeline, this corner of the multiverse, they were exactly where they wanted to be. They had been swept up in something they never thought could be nearly as beautiful as it had been. They’d been through a lot in their year and a half together, been through a lot before that, all of it guiding them where they were now, so ready for what came next for them as a couple but also content at exactly where they were. They could get through anything and wanted to go through everything with the other by their side. 

What they did know was they were Captain Cold and the Flash, Leonard Snart and Barry Allen, Len and Scarlet, all of it and none of it, any and every faction of themselves fit together so imperfectly like a beautiful piece of abstract art. What they did know was how deeply they loved each other, and it wasn’t just enough, it was everything. It was a delicate thing they’d made together, delicate like a diamond in its beauty but designed to withstand; delicate like a Sunday morning wrapped in each other’s arms with soft whispers of breath against skin that felt safe and solid. 

They were exactly where they wanted to be. For Len, it took most of his life to feel like he truly belonged, somewhere he didn’t have to prove his worth, his value, like he didn’t have to fight to earn another day, where the only thing he had to steal was moments with the man he loved. For Barry, it was like his entire life had been out of order, time travel disrupting his future, but for the first time, it felt like he had the chance to truly have a future. Life didn’t make it easy to find their way to each other but the love between them was what made them truly found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "I Can't Ever Get Enough of You" by Darren Hayes.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this labor of love. I'm so proud of how this story came out and loved playing in the ColdFlash sandbox. Peace and much love!


End file.
